


Dream Catcher

by Reservation_Red



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: A few Ymir POVs, Dark, F/F, Krista-Centric, Other, Slice-of-Life-ish, modern!AU, yumikuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-17 06:15:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 60
Words: 142,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5857312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reservation_Red/pseuds/Reservation_Red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two worlds are brought together by a fragile bridge of trust from an encounter at the County fair. Promises are made but only to haunt Krista and Ymir.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Underneath the Willow

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=aujgw5)

The October air was stale with the scent of decaying leaves and wet soil.

Krista sat behind the largest pumpkin in the patch off the road home. Her hands felt cool against the moist dirt. She snuck a glance over the pumpkin and found nobody was in sight. She knelt down on her knees and withdrew her library book from her bag. It was a compendium of Grimm Fairytales. It was thick as it was large. The green hard-cover had an oil-painting of a thinly-clothed woman asleep on a marble altar with roses growing around her hair.

Out of all the stories, Krista loved Sleeping Beauty the most.

Her shaky hands stroked the cover, tracing the small scratches and dents in it.

Sometimes, when she would read at night, she'd feel like the sleeping princess.

Krista looked up at the grey sky.

It was getting dark now.

The birch trees that lined the patch were still as their gold and orange leaves fell to the ground.

A drop of perspiration fell into her eye. She wiped the sweat from her brow and recoiled. The bruise above her eye stung. She wished that she could go to sleep and wake up to a happy ending like the princess. That she was beautiful enough to have all these wonderful things happen.

Krista opened the book to her bookmark. The words were familiar. She bet that she could close her eyes and read it from memory. She smeared the snot coming from her nose on her sleeve as she began to read where she left off.

"She shall have a temper as sweet as an angel," Krista's voice was uneven as she kept breathing heavily.

She stopped reading and tried to catch her breath. She didn't want to think of why she was in the pumpkin patch, hiding, and with a growing bruise above her eye. She couldn't even concentrate on reading.

Krista took a large inhale but the autumn air was too much.

She erupted into a fit of coughs.

"I heard something over there!" A voice called out.

Krista covered her mouth and ducked her head to her knees. She closed her book and held it above her head just in case another rock was thrown at her. The sound of bicycles rolled through the patch.

Krista held her breath as they stopped nearby.

"Where did she go?"

"I don't know."

Krista's curiosity got the best of her as she took a glance beyond her pumpkin.

The five boys were looking towards the forest by the patch. One of them began to turn their head as she quickly darted behind the pumpkin again.

"I bet she ran in there!"

"Yeah right. Girls can't run that fast."

"They don't, but we could'a got her if you were faster!"

"Let's go then! My mom is waiting for me!"

The bicycles went speeding by and onto the forest trail.

Krista was still until she couldn't hear their laughing anymore.

She coughed more as she was finally able to breathe again. Her knuckles hurt as she let go of her book. She wiped the sweat off her brow again. She stood up, scanning for the boys. When she couldn't see them, she put the book back into her bag and took off running back onto the dirt road.

She felt her heart race now that she was in the open.

Krista's blonde hair whipped around her as she ran home.

Her farm's property came into view along the road. It was lined with a decaying, mossy fence. She stopped and slid through a gap in the posts. She looked down the road to see the gang of boys on their bicycles racing towards her direction. She gasped and ran to the house.

She didn't look back in fear they were gaining on her.

The farmhouse sat on top of a grassy knoll with only one, large willow tree in the front. An old tire swing hung from it—the chains were rusty as it squeaked in the wind. Its cry beckoning her to rush up the last of the hill. The screen door opened as she stopped in front of porch's steps.

Krista was breathing heavily while hugging herself. Her grandpa came out of the house. He put his old, grease-stained Gatsby cap on. He shook his head and closed the door. She stiffened when he turned towards her. The porch light turned on as his brown eyes lit up even though his face was stern. He crossed his arms.

She bit her lip and glanced towards the tire swing.

Within its circle, the sun was beginning to set. She was late.

"I'm sorry," Krista said. She felt her hands wring around each other as she tried to keep her breathing steady.

Krista looked down at her feet. She saw his muddy work boots shift until she saw his knees, too. She looked up to see he was crouching near her. He put his wrinkled, calloused hand to the side of her face. His palm covered half of it. Gently, his hand went to the bruise above her eye. She winced as he prodded near the bruise with observing eyes.

She moved her face away in discomfort.

"Um…I-I was walking home, and then Jordice and them came on their bikes. Someone threw a rock at me and hit me in the head. I ran through Mr. George's property and hid in his pumpkin patch until I felt it was safe to come home. I would've gone straight home! I didn't mean to be late!"

His hand was becoming wet as she realized she was crying. She could barely feel her own tears on her cold face.

"I tried to get home!" Krista's nose was runny and she felt her throat become scratchy.

Grandpa frowned and moved his hand to her forehead.

"You're getting sick."

He stood up, stuffing his hands in his pockets. His face was deep with wrinkles. His sunken eyes bore down on her. His lips were pursed and his chevron mustache twitched to the right. It always did that when he was thinking. Krista saw him often do it when he did his crosswords. He took his hands out of his pockets and went inside.

She followed, trying to muffle her sobbing. She wiped my nose again and wished she had a mirror to smooth her hair down.

"Krista's back," he announced.

From the kitchen, she heard mild cursing and the stomps of her grandmother's feet. She came upon Krista like a storm until the small blond was in her shadow.

"Missy!" She bellowed. Krista felt her chest tighten as she took a step back.

"You were out with those boys again, weren't you?! You're eight and still don't listen! How many times do I have to tell you!?" In one hand, she had a ladle that smelled like chicken broth. In the other was a towel.

"Your hair is messy! Auggghh, and your dress too! Why, I don't think you've learned from last time!" Grandmother brought the ladle close to Krista's face. She was readying herself for a swat.

However, grandma pulled away and glared at Krista.

"Helena!" Grandmother cried out. She turned towards the stairs with a scowl.

"Helena!" She screamed again.

This time Krista heard a sigh and the quiet sound of feet shuffling. Descending like a queen, her mom made her approach. Her black dress was glittering and red lipstick glinting. Her face was completely composed. Her blonde hair was in a messy bun.

Grandpa quietly left to the living room now. Krista felt my throat tighten in fear. She wish he stayed near her.

"What is it?" Krista's mom's voice was soft and beautiful.

"Discipline your daughter! She was out late and with boys! Take care of your child!"

Grandmother grumbled and went to the kitchen.

Her mom kept her gaze on grandma's back when she got to the bottom of the stairs.

"Why do you do this?" She asked. Her voice was cold and dead like how she always spoke to Krista.

She wouldn't look at her daughter.

She never did. Krista felt the tears swell up again.

She almost choked as she swallowed the lump in her throat.

"I-I-I was coming home, and—"

"I don't want to hear it." Mom sighed, walking into the living room.

"Dad," she smiled. Krista followed in after her.

Grandpa glanced at Krista with a frown then at mom. His face tightened as she seated on the arm of his chair, taking the book out of his hands and reading the cover.

"I will go get it." Krista's voice was weak as she already knew what she had to do. Papa nodded at her. She began to walk out, listening to what her mom was saying.

"Eric will be coming to pick me up, and I just put on my face. Can you do it?" Her voice was like velvet as Krista shut the front door.

She stepped off the porch and went to the willow tree. She walked around it, trailing her hand on its rough trunk while staring up at its branches. She stopped as she found the largest branch she could break off. She climbed up the tree and to the branch. She wiggled it until it loosened before throwing herself on it.

A loud snap and the branch and she went falling to the ground.

She stood up, brushing off her dress, and retrieved the branch. She dragged it behind her as she went back to the house, preparing herself to get whipped.

"Watch out," her mom went out of the house. She pushed past Krista and waited for her boyfriend.

Krista glanced down the dirt road to see a car coming up the drive-way. She continued up the porch until she was inside with the willow branch.

"Here, papa." She put it down by him.

The fire was roaring in the corner as the old radio's music mingled with static. He sat down the book he was reading and took it in his hands. He examined it closely. He gave a test swat to the palm of his hand without a flinch.

A red mark formed where the branch struck.

"Goddammit, that girl!" Grandmother roared again.

Krista hopped near papa in fright.

Grandma went stomping down the hallway and Krista could hear the flap of her coat.

"Helena didn't even go and get the milk like I said. I will be right back! You talk to her when she gets back!" Grandmother growled and slammed the door as she left.

Krista and her grandpa were left in silence.

"Now," grandpa spoke. She turned around quickly and she lifted her dress to expose her underwear-clad rear to him.

Krista squeezed her eyes' shut, ready to be disciplined.

Her grandpa's hand on her shoulder made her jump. He turned her around. His eyes were soft.

"I don't feel like grabbing another stack of wood. Why don't we call it even if you throw this in the fire?" He leaned back, handing Krista the willow branch.

She felt her eyes widen. She wasn't sure if she heard him right as she was rooted to her spot.

Grandpa raised an eyebrow and wagged the branch near her. Krista snatched it from him as fast as she could.

"Y-yes sir!" Krista quickly went to the fire and threw it in.

The fire crackled and sputtered as the leaves were enveloped in its flames. She felt her cheeks sting from warmth as she smiled, hugging herself. She kneeled down in front of the fire, rubbing the tears and snot from her face with her sleeve.

"Our secret," grandpa was staring at Krista as he sought his book again.

"Our secret." Krista felt the snot cover her lips again, but she smiled at him. His mustache twitched as his lips ever lightly turned upward.


	2. Lift Me like an Olive Branch

Krista couldn't sleep that night as she kept tossing and turning from her cold. She sat up and tried to breathe out of her nose, but it was stuffed. She grabbed the napkins by her bed and blew.

A hopeless amount of snot and boogers came out, but it didn't clear up. Krista accidently snorted as she attempted to breathe through her nose again. She laid back down, staring up at her ceiling. She closed her eyes.

The sound of an owl, the wind through the willow outside her window, the fire cackling, Krista's mom and her boyfriend, and the snoring of grandpa drifted into Krista's ears.

Even though it was night time, this house was still alive.

"Not there," Krista could hear her mom plead to only be muffled again by the noises she made with her boyfriend.

She rolled over in bed, looking at her nightstand.

On it was a little music box that papa worked on for a woman who decided she didn't want it anymore. Krista begged to have it and was surprised one day when it was on her nightstand. She plucked it from its spot and began to turn the clockwork.

The soft music began.

The beginning was upbeat. Krista hummed with it. Papa said the song was called Heart and Soul, composed by Hoagy Carmichael. Whenever the house was too loud at night, she'd play the music box. It made her feel comfortable and it drowned out every other noise.

Krista's eyes closed again as she put the box next to her head.

She didn't wake until the early morning. She heard grandma's kettle whistling, the old radio's static music, and the sound of her mom's door quietly creaking open. Krista got up to begin her morning chores.

As she stepped out of her room, a man froze outside her mom's door. His eyes were big as saucers as if he got caught. Krista glanced up at him and then away. She passed him and got a pungent sniff of beer and cologne. He would be gone soon enough.

Papa said there was no use in trying to get to know them.

"Krista," grandma was calling her. Krista flew down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Work on the dough, missy." She pointed to the flour and ball of dough on the counter.

"Ok." She began to knead the dough as the floorboards of the stairs creaked.

Krista could see Papa at the table not even glance away from his book as the man stopped at the bottom of the stairs. He glanced in the kitchen with a strange look. Grandma gave him one look before busying herself even more.

The front door and screen opened as the man tried to sneak away. However, the door was creaky and the screen slammed behind him. The soft hum of a car starting signaled his departure.

Papa was always right that they never stuck around for breakfast.

As the sky got brighter, Krista was told to get the mail. She rode her bike down the hill. She felt the cold breeze numb her nose, but it also made her feel like she was flying. Krista laughed while sailing down the driveway to the mailbox.

Using a dingy metal stool, she began to dig for the mail, but was met with a strange, soft, and papery wad of something. She pulled it out and discovered a large amount of ones in her hand. Krista's eyes widened.

Upon closer inspection, she noticed it smelled a lot like the man from before—beer and cologne. He must've forgot it or something. She frowned and put the cash in the basket of her bicycle along with their mail. That was a lot of money. It could probably buy so much candy, or even a toy.

Krista sighed.

Either way, it wasn't hers, and she still had the long trek up the hill back to the house with her bike. She slowly trudged her way back up, but not regretting the freedom she felt riding down.

Once inside, Krista went straight to her grandpa.

"Papa," she had the money in her hand. He glanced up. At the sight of the money, his mustache immediately began to twitch.

"I found this in the mailbox." She handed him the newspaper, mail, and money.

Krista was leaving for school when her mom came down to eat breakfast. Her mom seemed very angry until she saw grandpa with the money. Krista quickly snuck away to put on her backpack. She watched as her mom went over with a skip and stole the money from papa.

"Oh, that's mine." She hummed and began to flick through the bills. Krista felt her face light up at her mom's happiness. Krista stole a glance at grandpa to see him look sad.

He shook his head and rubbed his face with his hands.

"Twenty-four," her mom counted as she went past Krista to the kitchen.

"Helena, will you help clean up?" Grandma asked, but mom didn't respond as she left with a glass of orange juice and toast. She silently went back upstairs and to her room. What she did in there, Krista did not know.

She was forbidden from entering her mom's room.

If she ever tried to peek inside, she'd get swatted with a willow.

"That girl," grandma shook her head as she began to clean up.

Krista went to grandma and got her lunch. She ran to the living room and gave papa a kiss on the nose. His mustache hairs tickling and scratching as he didn't move from his spot, but she swore she saw a smile on his lips. Krista was about to leave for school till his rough hand took her by the arm.

"You're sick," papa looked at her. He leaned back in his chair as he sat Krista down on the ottoman.

"Gladys," he hollered.

"I'm right here!" Grandma grumbled, walking into the living room while wiping her hands off with an apron.

"You don't have to shout. I'm not deaf yet," she sat on the couch before glancing at Krista.

"And you, shouldn't you be off to school?" She was looking at her expectantly. Papa sighed.

"She's sick," he said gesturing to Krista.

"What?" Grandma didn't seem to notice anything, though. Papa's brow furrowed while crossing his arms. Grandma gave a closer inspection before looking unmoved.

"What, the snot all of her face, rosy cheeks, dirt on her forehead, and hair everywhere? That mess? She always looks like that." She frowned.

Krista sat there, feeling that she should quickly leave for school. It didn't matter if she was sick or not, grandma said she was ok so she must be.

"She's sick. She'll stay home. I need help today, anyways." He tugged off Krista's backpack from her shoulder and put it by his feet. Grandma stood up.

"A car garage is not a place for a lady." She sniffed. Grandpa gave a scoff.

"As you said, she always looks like that. Not much of a lady, right?" His voice was gruff but there was lightness to it.

Krista brought her gaze back to grandma.

She shook her head.

"Whatever. Do as you wish, but you have to call the school." She wandered back to the kitchen. Papa stood up and retrieved the phone, dialing the number as he lumbered back to his chair.

Krista listened as the phone rang.

"Krista is sick…Yes… a cold… Bye." As quick as that she was free from the bullies at school for today.

Papa put the phone down and stood up.

His large build towered over Krista. He wore jeans and a button up shirt with suspenders. Like always, he had his Gatsby cap on. He walked out of the living room, going towards the door. She stood there, uncertain.

"Krista," he called for her.

Krista quickly jumped and ran after her grandpa as they left outside. The morning air was warmer than before but still stung. He strode towards the old barn. Inside was his workshop where he tinkered.

Their fields behind the barn were frosted over. The horses were only specks on the distant hills of our land. Krista found she had to almost run to keep up with her grandfather's strides. When they reached the barn, he opened it. The doors were loud as they groaned. It was dark. Krista went inside as he closed the large door behind him.

She held still where she was. She couldn't see in front of her. She could hear his heavy footsteps and a click.

The barn lit up from fluorescent lights.

All around Krista were various parts of rusty machinery. The rafters had various pieces of rope, chains, signs, and even a model airplane hanging from it. The walls were covered with posters of cars, beer advertisements, and some aged photos. In the middle of the barn was something covered in tarp. Behind the object was a large table with tools and strange gadgets. Krista looked up to see that the windows were covered in some sort of brown paint. She bit her lip as she went to the corner, unsure what to do.

This was the only third time Krista ever was able to be in here.

The other two times were her sitting at the front of the barn, knocking, to tell papa that lunch was done. Papa went over to the table and turned on an old radio. The static echoed through the barn until finally he hit his desired channel.

A soft, quiet melody sang through the morning quietness.

Krista watched as papa went around and grabbed a dingy looking stool. He patted it. She ran over and climbed onto it. It was cold against her legs.

"It'll get warm." He spoke, going over to a heater that was nestled between stacks of plywood. It started up with a hum. Krista brought her knees to her legs to keep warm.

He walked over to the tarp and slowly began to take it off. He unveiled a sunset orange car from underneath.

"This is a 1970 'cuda," papa said with a sigh. He took out a rag and began to wipe it down, even if it was already shiny.

Krista hopped off the stool and walked around it.

The front was boxy. It had something protruding from the hood of it. On the back, it had what was called a spoiler. Papa was already working hard on it. Krista wondered why he didn't drive it outside, or why it was stuck in here. She examined it closer. There was a black stripe on it. The top part of the car was black, too.

"Krista," papa nodded off to the stereo. Krista went over to it and sat there, unsure what he wanted her to do. He lifted the hood of the car with a grunt and began to fiddle with something.

"Turn it up." His voice was light. The usual gruff was gone. His dark eyes didn't look anywhere but on his car.

On his lips was a rare smile as he wiped something off. His lips then pursed together and she heard a low whistle. Krista turned up the volume with a forming smile.

A familiar song came up as she gasped.

"Heart and Soul?" Krista grinned as she turned it up some more, and papa didn't say otherwise.

He whistled along with the tune while working on his car. Krista sat nearby the table on her stool, listening to the song. It was so sweet.

The music box she had wasn't like this.

"Screwdriver," papa held his hand out and resumed the whistling. Krista slid off her stool and looked at the tools laid out on the table.

There were so many.

"The one that has a sharp tip. It's straight," he clarified. She found the one he described and handed it to him. He examined it before nodding and whistling once again.

Krista stared at his lips as she tried to mimic him, but all that came out was air and spit. Krista went back to her stool and pushed it closer to the car. She watched with curiosity as he was taking something apart from the inside.

He gave her screws to hold.

The whole time they sat there, working on the car, he'd smile at her, and even gave a coarse chuckle when Krista was disgusted with how much grease and oil was on her hands.

His smile and laughter brought her attention to him, though. She quickly forgot about her messy hands, dirtying her clothes in the process.

His eyes were lit up, and he even took his hat off to scratch his head in thought. Unlike most grandpas on TV, he wasn't balding. In fact, his hair looked like a bird's nest made of charcoal and silver string.

They sat in the garage till late afternoon.

The sun was setting and he was whistling Heart and Soul.

The horses were still specks against the bleeding sky as they walked back to the house.

She felt tired. She couldn't keep up with him.

Papa glanced back at Krista as she tried to chase after him. He went back to her and picked her up, holding her close to him. Krista felt her eyes water as she hugged him. His hands were big on her back, too, and hot. She never felt so warm before. He was so tall. Krista felt like she was on top of the world with him. She nuzzled her face into his shoulder, smearing snot and tears until she was crying onto his shoulder with soft wails.

"Oh, Krista, enough of that" his voice was soft and quiet as they walked back to the house. Krista closed her eyes, sniffling. She didn't want to be put down, ever. But Krista never was able to experience that awful moment if he did, because she fell asleep in his hug.


	3. Playing Under the Apple Tree

While Krista was sick Papa would bring her out to the barn with a huff or grumble. Grandma wouldn't say anything but would give Krista a disapproving look when she went with him. Mother never said anything—she never did in the first place. Once they were inside the shop he'd start smiling. He taught her the names of some of the tools and what they were meant for. Krista would hand him tools while sitting on her stool and he'd hum and talk about the car from morning to evening.

Krista almost forgot that it wouldn't always be like this.

"You're better," he stood up, staring at the thermometer.

He began to walk away, going towards his chair by the fire, ready to read his book—back to the Papa she knew before getting sick. Things would return to how they were before.

Krista couldn't stop herself once she began. She covered her mouth as hiccups and whimpers came out.

Papa stopped and turned around with a frown.

"What's this about?" He put the thermometer on the side table and went back over to her, hands stuffed into pockets.

"I-I don't want to go to school," was all Krista could muster before the wails kicked in. Something flashed over Papa's eyes.

"You're getting tired," he nodded towards the staircase, indicating he'd escort her to her room.

She wouldn't budge.

Papa shook his head.

She ran up to him, hugging his leg, and burying her snot and tears into it.

"I want to stay with you!" Krista clung tightly. He didn't move for a few seconds. She felt his arms reach down, picking her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck and made sure if he tried to pry her off he wouldn't succeed without a fight. Slowly with some grumbles, Papa brought Krista upstairs and to her room and let her down. She quickly went to changing into her nightgown. Papa went to the door. With her jeans halfway down and nightgown only around her neck Krista fumbled to the door and blocked his way out.

He looked down with his mustache twitching.

"No," she sternly said, trying to give him the disapproving look grandma gave.

He sighed and went and sat down on her bed. Krista made quick work of changing and crawled into bed. Once under the covers, Papa tried to leave her again. She took hold of his hand, tugging him to stay.

"Krista," he gave me an impatient glance. She didn't let go of his hand.

For a while they only stared into each other's eyes. It was a staring contest, but his eyes seemed distant like when he'd stare out the window after reading the newspaper.

Papa moved and her hold tightened, but he was only reaching for her music box. Krista gave his arm a little slack as he shifted and took it. He wound it up and put it back on the nightstand.

The sharp notes covered the room. The wind was whispering and the owl in the willow spoke back.

However, that familiar silence was broken when she heard Papa's soft humming. His other hand went up to her head, taking her hair and gently ruffling it. His fingers went along her scalp, sending pleasant waves of comfort through her. Krista's grip on his hand lessened as the thought of burying herself deeper in her bed became appealing. Eventually, she did let go and he didn't leave. Her eyes were heavy but she kept them on him, making sure he didn't leave—the Papa Krista met these past few days.

Tears came back to her eyes. When tomorrow comes, everything would be like how it used to. If she stayed awake then maybe things wouldn't change, because they wouldn't have the time to adjust.

"Papa," her voice was laced with sleep as her eyes couldn't stay open much longer. Some tears went down her face as Krista tried and tried.

He gave a grunt in response.

"I love you."

It was quiet for a long time. The sound of the music box had long stopped, leaving them only listening to the breeze outside her window with the wind chimes.

Papa removed his hand from her hair. Krista could feel him move as something prickly and rough was momentarily on her forehead. The bed shifted, floorboards creaked, and the door closed with a groan and a click. Distant groaning of the staircase drifted into her room.

Krista fell asleep as the familiar silence overtook her room. The only indicator that her time with Papa wasn't a dream was the warm spot at the edge of her bed.

**-x-x-x-**

"Hey, where you going?" Bikes tires narrowly missed Krista's feet as she kept her head down. The dirt road was empty except for the circle of boys, cycling around her.

"What's wrong with you? Scared?" She didn't look up as she absently kicked a rock down the road. A large shriek was heard as a boy fell off his bike. The other boys laughed, stopping and pointing at him.

"Hey!" As quick as that they were back at her.

"You should go faster! Why aren't you running from us? Want to get hit that bad?" The tires were biting at Krista's heels now. She could feel skin break each time they slid into the back of her. It reminded her of the time that Papa accidentally closed the barn door too fast, scraping the back of her feet.

Krista could only wonder how much work he did on the car today and if he missed her in the shop.

The boys kept cycling by her, laughing at each other and occasionally smacking into her with their bikes or jabbing their fingers into her sides. They kept with her until Krista could see her family's property.

"This is boring," as if on cue they left. Her rib cage hurt when she breathed and her socks were wet. She stopped, leaning down to check the back of her feet to see blood. Not a lot though. Krista stood up straight and adjusted her backpack and kept walking. Grandma would have chores for her to do, like usual. And like usual, when she was done, she'd spend the rest of the day on the tire swing. No more helping Papa.

Krista slid through the gap of the mossy fence. The squeak of the tire swing was coaxing her up the hill as she began her trek. The back of her socks were becoming damp now as her shoe kept rubbing the scrapes raw. Hopefully grandma wouldn't get mad.

"Krista," she shot her head up to see Papa on the porch, sitting in the rocking chair. He motioned for her to hurry. Krista ran up the rest and stood at the bottom of the porch's steps, panting. She stared up at him with a smile. His dark eyes were scanning over her until she saw a very small smile come on his lips. He stood up, stuffing his hands in his pockets with a grumble.

"Go get changed, I will wait for you."

Krista felt her eyes widen as she gaped at him. His smile widened a bit more.

"OK!" Krista quickly shot past him and almost knocking grandma down as she went upstairs to get into jeans and her play shirt. Krista could barely hear what grandma was saying to him. Krista was out in seconds, hopping around Papa as they went across the yard to the barn.

He kept glancing at her when she looked up as if he was expecting something.

"What?" Krista smiled, grabbing his arm. He looked away but he didn't stop smiling. He heaved open the groaning door. The shop lights were already on. He must have been working on the car some while she was at school.

Krista ran in and grabbed her stool from the corner and dragged it near the tool box. She was halfway up it when she felt Papa's hand on her shoulder. Krista glanced back, wondering what he was going to tell her, but saw something. A wrapped present.

"Huh?"

When she got off the stool, Papa gave her the package and stuffed his hands back in his pockets. It almost fell out of Krista's hands from how heavy it was. It was rectangular with Power Puff Girls wrapping paper. Her favorite cartoon.

"P-Papa?" Maybe he was having her hold it for now, because she never got presents unless it was a special occasion.

"It's yours. Open it." His voice was strained as he looked at the ground, shuffling.

Krista felt her cheeks hurt as she sat on the ground, placing it in front of her. She took the edge and tore it. Something pink and shiny peeked from behind it. She put her hand to it—it was cold. She ripped off the rest of the wrapping paper to find a pink, metal box. It was a lot larger than her plastic lunchbox. In fact it looked a lot like—

"It's your own tool box," Krista looked up at him to see a toothy smile, "look inside of it."

Immediately she unlatched the box and opened it.

She gasped.

There were pink gloves on top of folded jean overalls with pink boots. Next to them were small tools like Papa's. She picked up the wrench, examining it closer. It had a piece of tape on it. She was about to tear it off until I saw something written on it.

In bold, black lettering was her name—Krista's—it was her wrench.

"Th-This is all mine?" Krista never got this many presents, even on her birthday and Christmas combined.

He made an approving grumble.

Krista flew upward as he grunted in surprise at her hug. She couldn't reach all away around him, but she made up with it by a strong squeeze. He gave a chuckle, reaching up with his hand and ruffling her hair.

"THANK YOU!" She repeated into his belly, swinging side to side.

"You're welcome." He peeled her from his leg.

"Go put that on. We have lots of work to do. Okay?"

"Okay!"

**-x-x-x-**

"Krista," he spoke up one day. He sat back on his own stool, staring at his car. Krista curiously glanced up at him. She went over to the tool box, ready to grab what he wanted.

He shook his head, though. He took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow. He put his hat back on.

"The fair is coming up. I will be showing the cuda." He closed the hood of the car with a sigh.

Every year, Krista would go with grandma and mom to help care for their horses. Mom would go to the rodeo to see someone, and grandma would have Krista in the stables. It was tough work, but the fair was wonderful.

Krista could almost smell the cotton candy.

"You can come with me instead." He offered.

She felt her face light up.

Every time Krista went, she had to work and was never allowed to run around with the other kids. Maybe this time, Papa would let her go on the rides and get cotton candy.

"Really?" Krista jumped up, running to his leg and hugging it tightly. She felt his large hand on her head. She looked up and saw a small smile on his lips.

He gave a curt nod.

Krista tightened her hold on his leg. The old image of him—brooding, quiet, and on rare occasions he'd show tenderness—had left her. He was more than someone in a chair, reading, and listening to old music with a stoic look. He was her Papa, who gave her sweets after a long's day work in the barn, and would occasionally joke about grandma's cooking. He was a man who had a laugh like honey that shone in the sunlight, who whistled in perfect tune to every song, and liked to be with her all day, every day.

**-x-x-x-**

The days went by fast working under the hood of Papa's hotrod. School was an obstacle to overcome when all Krista wanted to do was fetch tools, sing to music, and giggle next to Papa, scrubbing the grease away under the sink.

The thoughts of the fair never left her mind, especially the caramel apples and the Ferris wheel. Krista had always wanted to go on it. With all the sweets she could have, she would see the world from above—high as the clouds and away from chores and the bullies. Every time Krista went to the fair, she would be kept in the stables with the horses. She was never let out to get cotton candy or to enjoy the rides or see the rodeo.

Until today.

It was early morning of the day of the fair. The grass was frosty and made their steps crunchy. The valley behind the barn was veiled in mist with its hills peeking from its blanket. The horses were close to the stables near the barn as if preparing for the trip. One of them was trotting to and fro by the fence in excitement. Krista felt just like that horse.

She skipped and pranced near Papa. He gave a look at her with a ghost of a smile.

"You went to the bathroom, right?" He questioned when they reached the barn doors. He pried open the large door until it swung open. It hit the side of the barn with a hollow thud.

"Yes!" Krista was skipping over to the fence where the horses were. She dug out some sugar cubes from her pocket and put them in her open palm. Carefully, Krista fed a cube to each horse that came near.

"Be good for grandma. She hurt her back," she told them all. They were usually well-mannered, but Krista wanted to make sure they understood just in case.

"Krista," Papa called over. She waved goodbye to the horses and ran to the workshop. Papa stood waiting on her side of the car. Once he saw Krista, he opened the door and picked her up in his arms. She grinned at him and she could see his mustache rise and his lips curl in return. He buckled her up and went to his side. He slid in with a grunt.

He glanced over with a look of excitement. Krista gave him an earnest nod.

He turned the key and the engine roared to life! She could feel it vibrate her seat as she giggled in amazement. He shared her sentiment by chuckling.

"She feels wonderful!" His voice didn't betray his happiness. Krista jumped up and down on her seat.

"Let's go! Let's go!" The leather seats were cold as ice, but Krista didn't mind. They were so happy and excited! Papa turned up the heat and fiddled with the radio station until the oldies were on. Krista knew the song and immediately sang with it. A low whistle blew through Papa's lips as they began together—whistle and voice.

They pulled out the barn and into the sunlight. She watched their horses and their house and soon their property leave the view as they pulled out of the driveway and onto the dirt road.

They were going somewhere far away from here. The thought made Krista smile so much that her cheeks hurt.


	4. Wisteria Grove and Her

The smell of deep fried foods and sweets met Krista's nose before she could open her eyes. Krista woke up from her nap to the fair. The autumn sun was out and bright with none of the typical October overcast. Cars of all sorts were around Papa's, but they all had one thing in common—they were all shiny. Men were going over them with towels even though they sparkled. Just like Papa.

They pulled up into a vacant spot as Papa got out, talking with a man with a clipboard. He was given a large piece of paper with a number on it to put in front of his car. Krista stepped out with him, glancing around. Happy murmuring came from the crowd around the cars. Many handshakes were dealt with business cards and hearty laughs. As she kept looking she saw that there were no kids here.

Was this the same fair that she went to with grandma?

"Krista," Papa called her over after he was done talking to another bushy-mustached man. Krista went over to him, ready to start whatever he would have her do, but instead he went to fishing into his pockets, retrieving his dark, worn leather wallet. He pulled out a ten dollar bill that was wrinkly like his hands.

"Get me a 'dog, treat yourself," he put the bill in her hands. Krista gripped it tightly, afraid she might lose it, as he gave her an encouraging nudge on her back, making her step towards where the food vendors would be. She glanced back at him, uncertain. There were a lot of people and above them, proudly erected like a mechanical mountain, stood the red and white Ferris wheel in the distance. Seeing it made Krista smile and take off to the food stands, knowing Papa might let her go on it if she was good.

She went along the sides, fitting through the areas between stands and fences, avoiding the crowd and out of sight. There were all sorts of nooks to be found along the way, but Krista had her mission. She crept quietly like a thief in the shadows, pretending that she could not be seen at any costs. Soon, the smell of hotdogs was wafting into her nose, making her stomach growl as she slid around a generator and was in the back of the hot dog stand. Krista snuck around, making sure nobody paid attention to her, and went to the counter. She couldn't see above it but she waited, and waited. She was either a very good thief for being hidden, or there wasn't anyone attending the stand. Krista put her hands up on it, gripping the edges, and pulled herself up till her elbows could prop her up better against the counter. A man sat there, eyebrow raised before smiling.

"Didn't see you there, lil' lady! Now, what may I do for you?" He got up and leaned over the front so Krista didn't have to hold herself up. She presented him the ten dollars.

"Two hotdogs, please," Krista gave the best smile she could, because grandma said to always smile when asking for something.

"What good manners," he took the bill and went to preparing the hotdogs. He put the condiments on, red and yellow thick from end to end, and the other with red squiggly lines and a smiley face. He brought back the change and hot dogs.

"Now, be careful, they're hot!"

"Thank you very much!" She put the money in her pocket, carefully took the hotdogs. With the quest items in hand she realized she couldn't take the challenging path she used to get there. The hotdogs would not survive the trip back if she did.

Krista glanced around but there was nothing familiar about this place. She couldn't possibly get back like this. Gripping the boats of the hotdogs, she went the path she came from as it was the only path she knew. Krista was beginning to squeeze through a small gap when she about lost both of the dogs. She quickly and carefully backed out of that spot and back into the mass of the fairgoers.

Krista stood still, glancing around, and then closing her eyes. She could hear grease sizzling, people talking, kids her age squealing and hollering, but she couldn't pick up the sound of deep laughter or engines revving. To make things worse, the speakers that dotted the fairgrounds began to play music, mixing everything into a thick soup of unfamiliarity and confusion.

Krista took a few steps further into the crowd but went back to where she stood.

What if she took the wrong way? Krista may never find her way back to Papa.

What if he left her if she didn't get back in time? Then she'd be left here with strangers.

With nothing but two hotdogs and six dollars to live off of.

Forever.

**-x-x-x-**

"Keep up, keep up!" Ymir held her sister's hand, tugging her through the crowd, but she kept dawdling behind her, occasionally tripping on her ratty shoelaces.

Sasha was by Ymir's side, sniffing the air and licking her lips.

"It smells so good," she sighed and held her stomach. They didn't have the money for it either way. Dad said they'd have to eat sandwiches while he helped attend grandma's stand, but Ymir saw he had twenty dollars in his wallet.

"W-wait up!" Ilse cried, stumbling, dirt-stained shoe laces flip-flopping left and right. Ymir stopped and kneeled down, making Ilse sit on the ground. People went around them as Sasha kept poking her head around the stands as if she had the money to buy things.

"Watch me," Ymir said, showing Ilse how to tie her shoelaces. Everyone knew the bunny trick but Ymir. Nobody taught her it so she made up an easier way. Ilse watched with a smile as Ymir fastened her laces. Once done, she helped Ilse off the ground and took her hand again. They kept walking, trying to get over to the carnival rides. They all saved up two months' worth of recycling cans to a total of five dollars each. They all agreed to spend it on the rides, but seeing Sasha eye the food was making Ymir think that wouldn't be possible.

"C'mon," Ymir said as Sasha was being left behind. Ymir went to turn as boys and girls went rushing past her, bumping her and Ilse off to the side.

"Ew!" One glanced back.

"They smells like cigarettes!" The girl said loud, pointing at Ymir and Ilse before laughing and leaving. Ymir was going to run after them and show them how gross they'd look after she beat them, but Ilse kept her back, not for the sake of the other kids but to sniff her clothes.

"I-I don't smell anything." She said confused. Ymir didn't respond, watching the other kids play tag. They all had clean, fitting clothes. Their hair all neat and perfect. She only had her oversized one-hole-under-the-armpit shirt, sewn up jeans. Ilse wasn't better off, having clothes she had when she was Ilse's age.

"It doesn't matter," Ymir gripped her hand tighter, going back to searching for Sasha.

"Sasha! C'mon! Let's go!" Ymir called out to her, seeing Sasha standing in between stands.

"Sasha?"

"Ymir!" Sasha yelled, waving her over and pointing where she stood. Ymir rolled her eyes and went over to her. Ilse ran over, looking at what wonder Sasha might've found. Last time, she found a dead rat.

By the time Ymir got over there, Sasha and Ilse parted to reveal a small girl with blond hair. She wore a little pink dress that was now stained with dirt, a smudge of ketchup, and a lot of tears. Like little sparkling stars they fell from her eyes as she held onto two hotdogs as if they could possibly get stolen any time.

"Hey," Ymir stepped forward, but she didn't budge.

"Hey," Ymir said louder and went forward until she was kneeling by her.

The girl jumped. One hot dog went sliding down but Ymir quickly caught it and put it back safely in her little hands. She flinched and went backwards.

"Hey," Ymir smiled. The girl was quiet but her tears kept falling from her blue eyes. She wasn't like them—Ymir, Sasha, and Ilse—but she knew a scared child when she saw one. Ymir scooted slowly towards her like how she would when her friend Marco was afraid and crying. The girl kept her attention on Ymir, sniffling.

Slowly, Ymir extended her arm out to her, palm open, and fingers seeking. Just like how her dad showed her.

"My name is Ymir."

**-x-x-x-**

The dark hand was open and expecting a return. Krista kept her eyes on it, trying to figure out what this girl would want from her. The boys would hide shocking things in their hands when they did this to her, or have a trick up their sleeve. Krista glanced up at her, the girl with the strange name, Ymir, and then at the two who were hiding behind her, looking Krista. They all were darker than the kids at Krista's school, but two of them had freckles like some of the kids at her school.

"K-Krista," she put my hand out, giving a hesitant shake. No thumb-tacks jabbed into her palm, no weird sensation. Ymir's hand gripped around hers, strong and soft. She shook it and withdrew.

"Krista," Ymir grinned with some teeth missing. Krista gave a wavery smile back.

"Why're you back here crying?" The younger looking one spoke up. Ymir shot her a disapproving look, but Ymir's eyes were bright and curious just like the others.

"I-I'm lost, and I-I think I got left." Krista didn't want to believe Papa left her, but she took so long to get back. She knew that he'd grow impatient. He probably forgot her.

The hotdogs were getting cold, too.

"Oh," Ymir frowned. Her brown eyes were looking at Krista. She glanced away, looking at the sky. Krista looked up, too, but saw she was looking at the Ferris wheel instead.

"Do you know where you're supposed to be?" She asked, looking back at her. The sun shone and this time Krista saw that Ymir's eyes weren't brown, but yellowish, but not yellow, but not brown…they were something else.

"Y-yeah," Krista wiped her nose on her arm, but froze, realizing what she did. The three didn't seem fazed at all at her rude behavior.

"M-my papa is at the car show," Krista mentioned. Ymir and the girl with the pony-tail grinned at each other.

"We know where that is!" The pony-tailed girl came flying towards Krista, startling her. Krista about lost her hot dog, again, but Ymir quickly caught it, giving her a smile as she put it safely back into Krista's hands.

"Yeah, we do. Sasha, lead the way," Ymir saluted to her friend. Krista didn't understand why but the other girl returned it and went marching with the youngest in hand. Ymir laughed.

"C'mon, Krista! Let's go!" Ymir took the hot dogs from her, her hands and fingers gentle, as Krista stood up.

"I will carry these. You're klutzy," she smirked. Her long, dark hair was in a half-ponytail. Bangs were strewn in all sorts of directions. Krista quickly went behind her, following her and the other two, but Ymir slowed down, letting her walk beside her. Krista kept her eyes on the others, the pony-tailed girl who was smiling and looking at all the food stands, and the smallest who was shy and curious.

"That's Sasha," Ymir nodded to the tallest one, "she eight. And that's my little sister, Ilse, she's six."

Ymir glanced at Krista as she nodded. Sasha, Sasha, Sasha, Ilse, Ilse, Ilse… Krista kept repeating the names on her tongue to try and remember them.

"How old are you? I'm nine." Ymir seemed to square her shoulders, picking her chin up, looking tall and proud.

"I'm eight." Krista gave a reluctant smile. She didn't notice till now but there was a strong smell on Ymir—it was Mom's smell after she got back from smoking outside. Krista didn't like it, but the way Ymir smiled back at her made her not want to turn away anymore.

"You're really small, though!" Ymir looked Krista up and down. Krista flinched and brought her hands to her chest, playing with them.

"I-I—"Ymir cut off Krista's apology with another laugh. Krista never met another kid her age who smiled and laughed as much as Ymir. At least to Krista.

"I thought you were six like my sister!" She offered Krista to carry one of the hotdogs. She took it and was surprised when Ymir took her wrist, tugging her up ahead with her two friends.

"Hey, hey, Sasha! Krista is eight like you!" She let go of Krista as Krista stood between her and Sasha.

"Really?" Sasha was excited, "we can go on the rides together!"

Ymir nodded eagerly at the proposal.

"How about it Krista?" Ymir glanced at her. Sasha and Ilse were staring at Krista, too, waiting for her reply.

"I-I—I don't know if I can…I-I—"Krista felt Sasha's arm go around her shoulders, shaking her.

"Don't worry! My dad says I got puppy eyes! If I help you ask I bet I can get you to come!" She bragged. Ymir rolled her eyes.

"She doesn't have puppy eyes. She just won't stop asking!" Ymir poked Sasha's side. The other girl yipped in surprise and soon enough they were running around Ilse and Krista, Sasha hot in pursuit and Ymir easily jumping and twirling away while managing to not drop the hotdog.

"D-don't fight!" Ilse cried out. Sasha stopped, sighing.

"When I go to your house, I will beat you on the trampoline!"

"You can't!"

"I can, too!"

The two gave each other wicked grins until Sasha stuck her tongue out and went back to leading. The crowd got thinner and thinner until Krista saw Papa leaning against his car, looking at his watch. His mustache was twitching like a bunny nibbling on a carrot.

"Papa!" Krista immediately ran up to him, feeling herself start to cry again. Papa's eyes went wide for a second as she hugged his leg, almost dropping the hotdog again.

"Krista, what took you so long?" His dark eyes were narrowed, angry. Krista tried telling him but she kept stumbling over my words.

"Um, sir," Sasha stepped forward, looking nervous, "she-she got lost! We helped her back."

"And here's your hotdog! I think," Ymir gave the mustard and ketchup one to him. He glanced at the trio and then at Krista. He sighed, shaking his head but a very small smile was on his lips.

"It's fine," he said, ruffling my hair. Krista pulled away, rubbing her snot on her sleeve again, trying to calm down. Papa gave Krista his handkerchief as Ymir and Sasha awkwardly sat there, glancing anywhere but Krista.

"Are you ok?" Ilse came up, holding Krista's hand. She gave a little nod, sniffling.

"U-Uh, sir!" Sasha's face was stern. Ilse and Ymir began to snicker.

Papa gave her a look. Sasha only grew stiffer.

"I—Is it ok if Krista can play with us?!" Her words shot out so fast that Krista barely was able to understand her. Papa gave a grunt and brought the hotdog up to his mouth, taking a bit bite of it. Some of the mustard and ketchup was in his mustache.

"After she eats," he gave a nod, taking another bite. Sasha bounced up and down.

"Thank you, sir!" She was grinning, showing that she, too, had missing teeth, but some of hers had metal caps on them. Krista took her hotdog and quickly ate it, anxious to go play. Once She was done they all were about to run back to the fair.

"Wait," Papa beckoned Krista back over, "you still have the six dollars I gave you?"

Krista gasped and quickly tried giving it back, but he shook his head.

"Be back by five."

"Thank you, Papa!" Krista hugged his leg, "I love you! Bye!"

Papa snorted, waving her off as she raced with Ymir, Sasha, and Ilse, heading towards the Ferris wheel that touched the sky. They didn't run too fast as Ilse was too small.

"You're really fast!" Sasha gasped as Krista passed her, trying to catch up Ymir, but she was nine years old and Krista was still a weak eight.

"W-wait up!" Ilse yelled at them. Tears were beginning to go down her face. Ymir slowed down, taking Ilse's hand. Krista passed her with a triumphant smile, but Ymir didn't seem to care.

"Don't cry! I will bring you back to dad if you do!" Ymir stopped running with a frown. Ilse smiled, wiping her tears away.

"Hey! You were just faking it!" Ymir's frown deepened, unhappy that she was played. Sasha and Krista halted and went back.

"I will bring you back to dad if you pull that again," Ymir huffed, yanking Ilse along as she giggled as if she never had cried in the first place. Krista walked on Ymir's other side as Sasha came up beside her.

"Six dollars, huh? We got five each." She said, counting. Slowly, they began to think until they stopped near an open area with dirt. Sasha found a straw on the ground and began to write out the equation.

"We have... 19 dollars!" She said, smiling. Ymir laughed, stomping on her handiwork and began to do the work herself.

"No, we have twenty-one dollars." She showed her the correct way to add up. Sasha grumbled as Ymir scuffed the rest out.

"We can go on the Ferris wheel and get popcorn!" Ymir said.

"Krista can probably get candy, too."

"I—I can share." Krista didn't want to be the only one who would be eating it by herself. Sasha immediately linked her arm with Krista's.

"That's that! Let's go to the Ferris wheel!" She shouted, jumping up and down. Krista couldn't figure out whether it was about the candy, the ride, or maybe even both.

"Alright, alright, let's go. C'mon Ilse," she tugged her sister along. The sun was lowering in the sky and the lights of the fair began to turn on. All the rides were in an array of bright neon that flickered and danced.

Standing tall was the Ferris wheel, a shining sign that could be seen from any part of the fair.

Krista could feel her smile hurt her cheeks. Today was it. The day that she could be on top of the world, where nothing could reach her.


	5. Wildfire, Wildfire

**[Where is My Mind by Yoav featuring Emily Browning**

**Paris by Magic Man]**

 

The machine groaned and shuddered before slowly raising Krista and Ymir towards the magenta sky. The autumn air that was tame below now was running through Krista's hair and over her face, leaving a prickling sensation on her reddening skin. The seat swung in the breeze, causing their stomachs to churn in excitement.

They went above the stall's roofs and kept going. Below, the people and the vendors became smaller and smaller, the view around them grew larger and wider. Krista could see the rodeo grounds from here with its cowboys on their horses, barrel racing. She could see past the fair and off into the town. She was higher than the electricity poles back at home, taller than the highest branch of the willow tree in their yard. Every light was radiating red, gold, and orange from the fair. They were waving and signaling to her as she left this Earth and went to the clouds.

The Ferris wheel lurched to a squeaking stop, leaving their seat rocking at the tip top.

"Look, you can see the sunset from here," Ymir pointed to the west. Rosy clouds crowned the sinking light beyond the mountains. Unlike the hill at the farm, Krista could see every tree and field bathed in the sunset's light. It coated everything in a tangerine and cotton candy pink.

"Isn't it pretty? Grandma likes sunsets," Ymir said. Krista only glanced over to see Ymir's eyes had caught the sun's warmth and blaze.

"Ymir, your eyes, what color are they? Yellow?" Krista said, looking closer. Ymir leaned in so she could get a better look. They were like fiery gemstones.

"Amber," Ymir said with a proud smile.

"Amber?"

"Yeah, it's, um, it's like a gold and brown...um, it's like honey."

"Oh, yeah, they do look like honey," Krista agreed, pulling away, but not glancing away. She had never seen eyes like hers before. They held a light that spoke of dusty summer mornings with golden light filtering through its motes.

"Your eyes are blue," Ymir said, closing the distance again, putting her hands on Krista's face, shifting her face left and right in the light as if to determine.

"Y-yeah," Krista shied from Ymir touching her face.

"What? I only wanted to see," she clarified, but Krista flinched from her grasp when she tried again.

"Alright, alright, but can I still just look? They look green right now. It's cool," and so Krista moved head to face the sunset. Ymir didn't reach for her face again as she peered down at her before smiling.

"That's cool. Your eyes can change colors!"

"Wh-what?"

"Yeah! Down there, they were blue, but up here they're green!"

A strong gust came through and teetered the chair. Krista clung to the safety bar on instinct as her stomach uneasily sloshed. Ymir only laughed as it rocked them back and forth.

"It feels funny, huh?" She bravely put her hands up as if inviting the wind to blow more.

"Come on, try it!" She encouraged, grabbing Krista's hand and pulling it up with hers in the air. The wind brought another breeze. She was right—it did feel funny. Krista took her hand from her and put it up in the air, smiling. Though when the seat shook a little too hard Krista's hands hesitated to reach out and grab the bar.

"Watch this!" Ymir began to purposely rock it back and forth, laughing.

"Ymir!"

Hearing Krista's voice spurned Ymir to do it with enthusiasm. Krista clutched at the safety bar. Her stomach was fluttering and the world shook, threatening to throw her back to the ground.

"St-Stop!"

"Krista, c'mon! It's fun! See?" Her laughter trembled with the chair until Krista felt hot tears run down her face.

"Ymir!"

But she didn't hear Krista as she kept laughing, looking down at the ground.

"STOP!"

This time Ymir heard it in her voice as Krista began to cry. She froze, staring at her. Krista held onto the metal, trying to will it to stop.

"H-Hey, Krista, I-I was just playing," she eased. She reached out to put a hand on Krista's back, but she shoved it away.

"Look, I'm sorry—I-" Krista's head was spinning. She brought herself the furthest she could from her, afraid Ymir would rock again or tease Krista for being a crybaby.

"Krista, I'm sorry." Her hand reached out carefully. Krista watched it and when it finally touched her she recoiled from the images of rocks being thrown, of bike tires running over her heels, and her hair being pulled till her scalp burned.

"Krista," Ymir's hand found hers and held it as Krista cried more, "I'm sorry."

Krista couldn't run from her like the bullies at school, because they were stuck on top of the world with only inches between them.

"D-Don't hurt me," Krista begged.

"Marc—Krista, why would I hurt you?"

"Y-You kept rocking an-and I sa-sa-said stop but you kept doing it!"

"I-I was just playing...I-I'm sorry, ok? I didn't mean to...I didn't mean to scare you." Ymir apologized again.

"I wouldn't hurt you, though...Why do you think I'd do that? Friends...friends joke with each other. It was a joke."

"I-It wasn't! It was scary! I said stop!"

"Yeah, I know, I know...I saw. I should've stopped." She said through gritted teeth, but she meant no harm. Her voice was soft and a little guilty.

"Why would I hurt you, though? I don't get it." Ymir asked.

"Krista, tell me."

Krista could almost feel their fingers jabbing into her sides, the snickering and name calling- crybaby, wimp, bastard, whore's daughter, and useless, waste of space. The voices between her mom, her grandma, and the kids at school were the same. They all beat the same message into her daily.

"Y-You kept scaring me when I said stop. Only bullies do that."

"Bullies," Ymir repeated, "...Do you get bullied, Krista?"

Nobody had asked her that before. Not even Papa.

Krista gave a weak nod.

Amber went narrow with disapproval.

"Who are they? Why would they do that?"

"I-I don't know."

"Well, if they're here, I will beat them up. My friend Marco gets bullied, but I take care of them. Friends look out for each other!"

"Friends?"

"Yeah, friends! We're friends! You know what friends are, right?" Ymir asked with an incredulous look.

"...Yeah..."

"Do you have friends? Do they help you punch your bullies in the buns?"

"Y-yeah," Krista lied. She wiped away at her tears.

"They ain't your friends if they don't stick up for you!" Ymir caught her off guard as she tightened her hold on Krista's hand.

"Me and Sasha will be your friends! If we see them, we'll kick their ass!" She said, emphasizing on the cuss word to show her seriousness.

"D-Don't say that! That's bad!"

"Sorry," Ymir didn't look like she meant it. However, nobody said they'd be her friend. Nobody ever wanted to be till now.

They sat there, holding each others hand, and staring off at the fair below. It was a comfortable silence between them. The conductor was yelling an apology to the fairgoers as he began to work on the technical difficulty.

"Hey, Krista?"

"Hm?"

"Ever get the feeling of running away?" Ymir asked. By now, the amount of surprises from Ymir was becoming less, well, surprising.

"What do you mean?" Krista asked. She always thought of leaving the house, leaving the bullies, running from her mom and grandma, but she always saw it with Papa.

"Just get away from stuff." Ymir shrugged.

"Y-Yeah."

"Just want to be happy, right? Like those movies?" She was looking off at the rodeo. She had that look like Papa did when he was staring out the window after reading the newspaper.

"Yeah."

"Sasha and I promised we'd end up millionaires. We just gotta go through high school and get a job. We're going to open up candy stores." She told her foolproof plan.

"Oh." Krista didn't know why she was telling her.

"I promised Marco that I'd always protect him."

"Oh."

"So, do you want to make a promise with me, too?" Ymir asked. She pulled her hand away from Krista's, smiling.

"I-I don't know." Krista wondered what she could promise her.

"I promise you'll like the promise." She held out her pinky towards her.

"Um," Krista glanced at her hand and then up at her face.

Nobody else had honey eyes and nobody else laughed as loud as her, nobody said they'd fight off her bullies and nobody told her they were friends. Nobody said sorry when they hurt her or sat with her on top of the world.

Krista had only met Ymir today, but she knew she was her friend.

Krista linked her pinky with Ymir's, mustering a smile.

**-x-x-x-**

Fireworks were lit and going off as the friends danced and raced underneath the night sky. They went between stalls and tents, whispering and sneaking like bandits. When they burst into the open, they were all laughing and chasing each other, but Ymir was always ahead of them with her long legs.

They were running through the crowd, tagging each other with Ymir in the lead and the rest tailing behind. Krista ran faster, leaving Sasha and Ilse behind, drowning out their cries to wait up. Through the crowd they weaved, Krista's eyes on Ymir's back, trying to catch up, but she was always out of her reach. Ymir spotted her behind her and quickly darted around the corner. Krista sputtered forward but she slipped and fell, sliding on the ground.

"Ow," Krista hissed as her hands shot to her dirty, wounded knee.

"Hey! Look who it is!"

"Why is she here?"

"Right! Her mom is the slut! The one at the rodeo!"

The group of boys from school narrowed in on her.

"I can see your underwear!" One laughs. Krista hastily shuts her legs tightly together.

"Why're you here? You don't belong here! My dad says you aren't good, says you're a bastard! A mistake!" The boy pushes her down on the ground. Krista could only hold herself, knowing she couldn't run from them this time.

"Krista!" She could hear Sasha's voice far away. Krista covered her head and face, hoping the boys would be gentle.

"Hey! Move it! Get out of the way, you're blocking the way! Get, move—Krista?"

Krista only saw a blur of amber and freckles.

"Who the heck are y-" the boy doesn't get far before Ymir's hand socks him square in the nose. A blood crunch is heard as he wails. The other boys turn towards her in shock, but Ymir only roars at them. Out of nowhere, Sasha comes in, tackling one down and grabbing him by the hair, rubbing his face into the grass with a glare.

"DAD!" One of the boys tries to run but Ymir grabs him by the back of his shirt, hauling him back and kicking his lower back. He grunts and falls, trying to rip Ymir's grip from his shirt, but she slams her fist into the side of his head, letting him fall with a yelp.

"No! No! I'm sorry! Let me go!" The one spared is staring at Sasha and Ymir in fear, but Ymir is faster in reaching him. She grabs his arm and proceeds to clench onto his arm with her hands. She makes a wringing motion with his skin and he wails and falls with his friends.

"I'm going to tell!" One of the boys says in between sobs. Some people stopped what they were doing and were watching in shock at the little brawl.

"Let's go, Krista." Ymir is glaring at the boys as she takes Krista's hand and lifts her up and helps dust Krista off.

One by one, the boys help each other up and run off.

"What happened?" Sasha asks, concerned. Ilse comes from the shadows of the stalls, racing to Krista and hugging her side.

"Boys picking on her for no reason," Ymir said.

"Like the bullies that do that stuff with Marco?"

"Yeah."

Krista doesn't say anything when Sasha and Ymir look at her.

"I—I-"

"Don't worry about it!" Sasha was the first to wrap an arm around Krista, smiling with her twinkling, silver teeth, "let's just forget about it! We beat them up! They won't hurt you again now! If they ever try to, we'll punch their buns so hard that-"

"That?" A large man in cowboy garb came strutting up, glaring at them. The group of boys in his shadow.

"I—Uh-"

"Dad, that Krista girl was being bad! She tried showing us her underwear! When we tried to leave she got her friends here to beat us up!" One of the boys spoke while crying, whining.

"Why ain't you shut your mouth, son, and stop cryin' like a little bitch!" His father shot at him. The boy froze before nodding, trying to wipe his tears away.

"Jesus Christ, gettin' beat up by these two." The man sized Ymir and Sasha up. The man snorted.

"Of course, it's always them Indians gettin' in trouble," he leaned down, "you little shits always stirring problems left and right, huh? Just little savages like your parents, huh?"

His breath was overwhelming with the smell of onions and tobacco, but Ymir stepped towards him, hiding Sasha, Ilse, and Krista behind her.

"What? You gunna protect them? You're 'bout scary as a damn twig," he shoved a finger into her shoulder.

"What you did was a straight up crime, little girl. You ought to be put in your place, remember why we won this land, and remember you stay down on your little reservation, licking your wounds," he spat out black saliva onto the ground before Ymir's feet, but she stood tall, not once moving or flinching before him.

"Tch," the man got back up, "now, you four are coming with me. I am bringing you straight to the cops for this little stunt. Come on."

Krista didn't realize there was a crowd around them, watching and murmuring as they were led to the police tent.

The crowd of boys were snickering, poking Krista's back the whole way there.

"Told you we'd get you in trouble," Krista could hear their whispers, "you slut."

**-x-x-x-**

They were told to sit on the bench inside as the man and the boys went in to file the report. The silence was heavy and long as they waited. Ilse began to cry with Sasha as fear began to set in, but Ymir was silent. Krista couldn't bring herself to look over at Ymir, afraid she'd see her staring at her, scared she'd tell Krista it was all her fault.

"Whaddya mean their just kids!?"

There was muffling.

"Yeah, so you gunna let them fuckin' off with a warnin'? What's the message there, huh? That it's ok for them Indians to come up and just start causin' problems?! You know as well as I they come up here, sellin' their stupid shit, rippin' us off, and goin' and makin' it out like bandits after stealin' and lyin' to us!"

It was quiet for a long time till the cowboy came out, fuming, and shoving past the boys and leaving outside. From behind the tarp wall came a stout police officer with a white mustache. He glanced over the girls.

"Come here, ladies," he said, opening the entrance for them to shuffle through. Inside was a collapsible table and various documents strewn about. The officer sat them down before seating himself and glancing between them.

"DADDY!" Ilse was the first to crack, wailing.

"Now, now, little girl, it's quite alright. You're not in trouble until proven guilty." He brought out a metal, liquid container, and four plastic, red cups. He poured each one with a frothy, chocolate substance.

"Hot chocolate!" Sasha whispered quietly as her eyes went bright, forgetting she was crying. When the man handed them their drinks, Sasha snatched the cup and greedily drank away. Ilse took her cup through sobs, gingerly nursing it to quiet herself. Ymir and Krista left theirs untouched.

"Now, that man was downright upset and being a little unfair," the elderly man spoke, "mind tellin' me what got him all riled up?"

"Those boys!" Sasha blurted between drinks "they were hurting our friend, Krista, and we came in and beat them up! She's just a little girl, see? Tiny and cute! Who'd pick on her unless they were bad!"

Sasha pointed at Krista and the old man gave her his attention.

"Now, Krista, right? Yes, pretty name for a pretty, little girl. Now, as I was sayin', what happened? Did they really start hurtin' you?" He asked, studying her face.

"I—Uh—I-"

"It's alright, you can tell me. You're safe."

Safe, huh?

"Th-The boys pushed me down. Said bad things to me."

"I see. What they say?"

"Bad things."

"It's alright, you can tell me."

"Th—they called my mom...a bad name and-"

"Little lady, I know it's bad to say bad words, but I must know so I can ensure justice is served."

"O-oh, ok...they-they called my mom...a s-slu—um, the S-L-U-T word." Krista spelled it out for him. She only knew how to spell it because the boys often took her worksheets, scribbled her name out, and put that down instead.

"Now that's not nice. What else did they say?"

"Th-that I was a ba-bas-" Krista didn't know how to spell that "- a bastard. A mistake. That I didn't belong here."

"I see, well, a little secret between us, girls, but I think they downright deserved that beating. No good man or boys would ever hurt or say such mean things to a little lady. Now, I must ask, you didn't do anything to provoke them—ah, I mean, do anything to deserve that?"

"No, I was just...playing with my friends."

"I see."

The old man asked a few more questions—who their parents were, where were they now, if they knew that resorting to violence was not an option, and other seemingly insignificant things. He only sat up to call over a fellow police man, whispering something to him, and sending him off.

"Now, I've told that man to round up your folks. I can't have you leavin' here without them knowin' what had-"

"NO!" Krista shot up.

"Now, missy-"

"NO! Please, please, please, no! I didn't do anything wrong!"

"I know, but, you had-"

"Please! Please! Please, no, don't tell my Papa! No, please!"

"Krista," Krista felt Ymir's hand on her back, "it's ok. We can talk-"

"No! Please! He can't know! Papa can't know!"

"Miss, please calm down. Everything will be fine, I will talk to him personally and say that you were being defended. It's alright." The man tried to comfort Krista, but she withdrew, holding herself, rocking. Krista wished she was back at home, hiding in her closet, but she was stuck here in the open, waiting for what was to come.

"Ymir, Ilse, Sasha!" An old woman came up, scolding the three.

"What I say about starting fights! You three are out of control! Violence is not the answer, little women! You're worse than your cousins!" She shook a finger at them before looking up at the man.

"Oh, Henry, I didn't know it was you! Long time no see? Ah, I'm sorry for my babies, they're worse than wolverines, I swear," she sighed.

"It's all fine. They were protecting their friend here, Krista."

"Krista? I never heard of her," she said, looking at Krista with a sweet smile, "Is it true, little one?"

Krista only nodded, unable to speak.

"It's ok, little one. I am happy you're safe." She looked up at Henry.

"Thanks for understanding. When I heard that my babies got in fight with Hick's son I thought I'd never hear the end of his racist ass—I mean rear, don't ever say that, little ones," she told the children. Henry gave a nod, laughing.

"Yes, well, I did hear the end of it." The two laughed, shaking their heads. Even Ymir and Sasha were giggling.

"Krista!?"

No.

"She's in here, Mrs. Lenz."

The tarp folds were thrown open as Grandma charged in, hair unkempt, and breathing heavily.

"There you are, little Missy!" She was grinning at Krista. She took her hand, helping her off her chair.

"Why, I thought I misheard when I was told my little granddaughter got in trouble! Not my Krista, I thought!" She gave a little laugh.

"It's alright. She was being antagonized by Hick's son and the lot," Ymir's grandma reasoned, but Grandma ignored her.

"I will be taking her now. She ought to learn her lesson for being bad, hm?"

"Ma'am, it was just a misunderstanding," Henry began, "she was-"

"I know, I know," Grandma said, "now, I will be taking her, mk?"

"Oh, well, alright, if you understand."

She tugged Krista out, her grip smashing her fingers together. Krista glanced back and saw Ymir reaching out for her, but she was too far away now. Krista was dragged out of the tent and away from her friends and the direction Papa was in.

"Now, now, you really done it! I told that husband of mine that you weren't to be trusted, but he goes and babies you, buys you expensive things, and then takes you away from me when I need help in the stables. Damn him and his stupidity! And you, you better be ready when we get home, your mom will be dealing with you!"

The Ferris wheel stood tall, glowing and flashing like a beacon—a distant illusion that Krista was once untouchable, that she was safe, that everything was getting better, even if for only a small moment.

**-x-x-x-**

"You did WHAT?!" Mothers hands held Krista's face, squeezing till the skin went white in her grip. She dug her nails into Krista's cheeks as she shook her face.

"You little shit!" She seethed as Grandma stood at the doorway of the porch, watching as Krista was punished.

Bullies, Ymir had said, and when her friend confronted her bullies, she did so with a straight face. Krista never saw someone face danger with such a cool expression. Krista kept still, taking what her mom gave her, but she didn't give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

"What is this? You think you're tough shit now! Now that you got in one fight and fucked up everything! PATHETIC! You are pathetic, Krista! I swear to fucking God that every time I think I can forget about you, you go and make a mistake! You know what you were? A goddamn mistake! You're a disappointment!"

But Krista kept her face strong.

"Oh? OH?! OHH!?" She retracted her nails from Krista's skin. It was only a moment of relief as a hand came slapping onto Krista's face, striking her down onto the rough porch, embedding splinters into Krista's hands and knees.

"I should've gotten an abortion!"

"Helena! I will not hear that in my house! God forbids!"

"Whatever! Even you didn't want her! Give her up for adoption you said! Who'd want to take her in? Look at her! Just seeing her makes me feel disgusted!"

"I will admit, yes, I didn't want her in my house, to know my daughter had a child out of wedlock, yes, but God gives life and we must accept it!"

Their voices were blocked out as Krista got back up, holding her raw cheeks. Krista knew that mother and grandma were done with her when they began to argue over Krista's existence. As Krista walked past them, she looked into the living room, seeing Papa by the fire in his chair.

Krista caught his gaze and held it. For awhile they only looked at each other before he glanced away back to his book as if he never saw her.

The tools and boots he bought her were forgotten as Krista dragged herself to her room. She went to her closet and hid in it. Inside were her two stuffed animals and a little broken nightlight that didn't work, but she kept it in the socket regardless. She held herself, touching over the nail indents on her face as the yelling got worse down stairs.

'Friends look out for each other!'

Like before, and in the end, Krista was alone with nothing to defend her from her family.

'I promise you'll like the promise.'

The last thing Krista saw of Ymir was her reaching out for her.

'Wh-What's the promise?'

Krista closed her eyes.

"Promise me-"

"I promise."

**[Welcome to Dream Catcher]**


	6. Kiss Your Chains

**[These Days by Nico**

**Crazy by Patsy Cline]**

 

"Oh, knock it off. It ain't that bad," Grandma grumbled. She roughly scrubbed away at the cuts on Krista's face with alcohol. She stood still, blinking back tears. Krista kept her teeth clenched to hold back her whimpers.

"Yeah... Krista is sick... yeah... flu...yep." Papa's voice drifted in from the living room to the kitchen.

"There, off with you," Grandma clicked her tongue, shoving Krista out of the kitchen, "go do chores or stay in your room. I don't want to see your face."

Krista tripped into the hallway and stood still as she gingerly felt her face where the raw indents were from last night. It hurt a lot worse than it usually did. She winced and pulled her fingers away when the cuts began to ache and sting.

"Krista," Papa called out as he came out of the living room. He went to pull his coat on and then took Krista's from the rack, holding it out for her. She went over and got on her coat and slowly followed him out.

They walked over the property in silence. When they reached the barn, Papa heaved the door open, letting her in and then closing it behind them. He went over, turning on the lights and radio, and began to whistle with the tune as he took the tarp off his car. He popped the hood and began to work from there.

Krista went and sat on her stool. She didn't move or say anything. Only waiting for him to tell her what to do.

Halfway through the song he stopped whistling and glanced back at her.

"Don't feel like singing?" He asked.

"No."

Papa gave a shrug and went to wrenching away at something, but he kept looking back at her.

"Hey, how about you try this—grab your little wrench." He gave a low smile. Krista went to the tool shelf where her utility box was and retrieved her wrench. She walked over to him and he picked her up and held her over where the bolt was. He helped lock the wrench onto the bolt and then gave Krista her turn to try and pry it loose. She yanked around but it was stuck. It felt like he was only doing this to watch her fail.

"I can't."

"Alright, alright, let me try." He grabbed his wrench, replacing Krista's, and easily got the bolt off in a few rotations. He sat her down and let her return to her seat. He didn't ask Krista to help him after that, but, again, he kept looking at her every now and then.

"How about we go to the store, you and I. I can get my pop and you can get a sweet?" He asked.

Krista only stared at him, wondering why he was suddenly so talkative.

"Hm, what you say?" He waggled his eyebrows this time with a slight smile. What he was doing now wasn't like him at all.

"Papa?"

"Don't worry. I won't tell grandma." He promised and even marked a cross over his heart. Krista brought her gaze down to the floor, remembering Ymir and our promise.

They aren't your friends if they don't stick up for you.

"...Papa...why didn't you tell them I wasn't lying?"

The small smile on his face was extinguished as he stopped what he was doing. He was staring at her with an expression that was painful to see. It was sad to see his dark eyes lose that playful shine and to look at Krista as if she had hurt him.

"You knew I didn't lie, Papa. I didn't start the fight...Papa...I get bullied, Papa. Wh-why don't you tell grandma and mother? I-If you did, maybe—maybe they'd believe me an-and wouldn't punish me... Papa...Papa?"

Papa only stared into the space between them with downcast eyes. The wrinkles on his face were long and deep as if they hid more than what he began to show. He picked up his gaze and turned around, staring at the engine of the car. He picked his wrench up and began to agonizingly work on his car with languid motion.

The only sound between them was the radio.

_I've been out walking_  
I don't do too much talking  
These days, these days  
These days I seem to think a lot  
About the things that I forgot to do  
And all the times I had the chance to.  


**-x-x-x-**

"You did what?!"

The house was dark with the only light being that from the parlor's fireplace. Krista sat in the shadows on the staircase in her night gown, listening to grandma and Papa. Mother had long since left with one of her boyfriends.

"What? You going to play stupid and quiet!?"

It had been awhile since grandma fought with Papa. Krista only crept out of bed when she heard her name yelled by grandma.

"Look at this! Look at this, you worthless bag of bones! This is the invoice from our checking account! You've spent this much for a stupid car and that little girl!"

It was quiet once more.

"I should've left you long ago. You are a worthless man who can't even take care of himself, you hear? You rely on your daughter to give you money to survive! When I married you, you were supposed to take care of me! Not slave me away, too! God help you!"

Krista stood up to return to the comfort of her bed, but she saw grandma's shadow cross the wall. A loud slap was heard and a grunt.

"Do I need to remind you who you were before me? You were lower than dirt! I made you into a man! I gave you the job at my father's garage! And this is how you repay me after you ruined me?"

Krista knew better than to intervene when she heard her wail on him more, but Krista still felt the guilt wrack her as she sat safe in the shadows, unnoticed.

Papa didn't deserve to get hurt. He never did anything wrong.

Krista's hands gripped the railing of the staircase to haul herself up and save Papa, but her feet were frozen in place.

She heard another loud slap and a painful whine come from Papa.

Krista was too scared. No matter how much she tried to get up and stop it, she couldn't. Krista wasn't brave enough like Ymir to stand up for what was right.

"S-Stop," Krista heard Papa's choked sob but another slap came.

Even if Krista did stand up, she knew nothing would change. Just like how no matter how many times Papa told grandma sorry, she wouldn't stop hitting him.

**-x-x-x-**

Grandma's fingers were rough as she tilted Krista's head to and fro in her grip. Her eyes glancing over where mother's scratches were.

"They healed up. She can go to school now," she gave a squeeze to Krista's jaw and then released her face. Krista held where it still ached from the pressure, but she didn't cry. It felt like she couldn't cry ever again. Not because she didn't want to but because there were no tears left.

Papa gave a nod, reading the newspaper. His face was unmarred. It was as if what Krista saw and heard last night was only a dream.

"Get going. If I hear you've been startin' problems, you'll be out of school for more than two days! Mark my words, Missy!"

Krista sped to the door, grabbing her backpack, and only hesitated to look in on Papa. He glanced up and stared at her with sullen eyes. She looked away and ran out the door, too scared to go over and give him a kiss on the cheek.

Last night began to incessantly play like a movie on repeat in her head. Each time the memory stopped Krista would be filled with even more guilt.

Why didn't she do something?

Krista could have went in there, pushed grandma away, and told Papa to take the car and run away. She could have shown Papa that he was stronger than grandma and mother combined.

But the moment was lost and her late courage wouldn't amount to anything. Krista was given her chance and she let it pass her by.

**-x-x-x-**

"It's Bingo night! I left you two some food in the fridge so you don't burn the house done. And if Helena comes back, tell her to fend for herself! The spoiled rotten brat." Grandma was dressed for the occasion with make up.

"You look good," Papa called out from the living room as grandma passed by. Grandma gave him a small laugh.

"Thank you, darling." Grandma left in the old, beat up truck, and disappeared down the road.

Krista sat at the window, staring outside as the first snow was falling. Soon the hill would be ready to go sledding on and she can play outside till dark instead of being forced to do chores.

Papa's chair squeaked and woke Krista from her brief daydream. Krista glanced back, watching what he was doing. He was over at the radio, turning up the volume. A sad intro began to play with a piano. A woman's voice so soft and sweet sang like she could only speak of heartbreak.

"Papa, who is this?" Krista asked, getting up from the window and going to the old, wooden radio. Papa sat stood by it, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Patsy Cline," his voice was gruff, but it was always like that. His eyes were shiny like polished buttons as he listened.

"What's this song?" Krista said. It was sad but it had a tune she couldn't shake.

"Crazy," he told.

And then he smiled.

"I met your grandma at a dance. We danced to this song." He chuckled as he began to sway a little to the song.

"You used to dance?" Krista gasped, staring up at him, trying to see him smiling and dancing. Papa scoffed with a smile.

"Kids don't dance like they used to." He said. He went back to his chair, whistling to the song. Krista sat on the ottoman near his wool-sock feet, listening to the words.

"Why is she so sad?"

"She got her heart broken." He grabbed his book and put on his reading glasses. He licked his fingers and sifted through the pages till he found the dog-ear page.

"Why?"

"She was in love with someone. They left her for another. Now she's alone and sad."

Krista frowned.

"Didn't the other person love her, too?"

Papa gave a shrug.

"But if they love each other... then why it happen? Cause love lasts forever, right?" All she knew about love was what she saw Disney movies.

Papa put his book back down, looking at Krista. His mustache twitched around in thought.

"Krista, do you know how to dance?" He asked, getting back up with a grunt and putting the book back onto the end table.

"...N-No..."

Papa went over to her, taking her hands, putting one on his side, and he took her other hand in his large, calloused one. He began to lead away with a smile. Krista had to watch his feet so she didn't stop on him.

"D-Did you dance like this with grandma?"

"Yeah... I was at the dance with an old friend of mine. He said to go dance with her, but... well, I didn't want to... too shy. He shoved me to her and I guess your grandma found something in me she liked."

Krista didn't understand.

"But...Papa, if she loved you...why does she hurt you?"

Papa froze.

"Papa, why does she hurt you?

"Papa?

"U-Um, Papa?" Krista was scared he was going to yell at her for saying something wrong, but he only stared at her. She took his silence as permission to continue.

"Papa... Mother and Grandma...th-they hurt us...Papa, I—um... H-have you...e-ever thought of running away?"

"Krista-"

"Papa, we can run away together! We can stop being bullied! Papa-"

"Krista, that's enough!" He roared, releasing her from his grasp. She only saw a glimpse of his enraged face before he marched to the window and facing away from her.

"I-I'm sorry, Papa. Papa, I-"

"Go to your room."

"Papa! Plea-"

"NO!"

Krista flinched.

If it was days ago, she would've cried, but for reasons unknown, she only felt a deep coldness. The tears that always made their way to her eyes weren't there anymore. Somewhere in her they began to freeze and chill her from the inside out.

Krista quickly ran up to her room and went to hide in herself closet, blocking out the music downstairs. Her body was overwhelmed with what she felt—she could only concentrate on the pain as she rocked herself in the dark. It was like somebody put a chain around her heart, squeezing it tighter than a noose. She could feel it rip and tug downwards like funeral bells. Every throb brought a heavy, nervous bleeding to her stomach.

Krista was always able to run away from the bullies. She knew how to hide from grandma's and mother's view so they wouldn't bother her. Yet, the pain that began that day never left her alone no matter how much she hid and busied herself.


	7. A Slave to Misery

**[Heart and Soul by Hoagy Carmichael, lyrics by Frank Loesser  
Helena by My Chemical Romance (Piano Covers)]**

 

"Krista, come up to the board," the teacher held out the whiteboard marker, "write 'I promised my friend I'd meet up with them.'"

As she drifted down the row of desks, the noisy and boisterous boys calmed down, eyes chasing after her. She took the marker from his hand and began to write as directed. It had been years since she had made the promise with Ymir, years since she associated with the word 'promise'. It reminded her of almost lost hotdogs, a sunset that was tantalizing, and a promise that was branded upon her heart like a thief with missing fingers. The faces she once held dear began to blur as childhood had been tucked away to make room for early adolescence.

"Very good. Now, speak it, please."

"I promised my friend I'd meet up with them." Krista repeated in Spanish, facing the class and their undivided attention. The bony arms and sharp knees Krista had as a child became softer and fuller on her still tiny frame. Her girlish figure was beginning to hold womanly promise as it matured, garnering a petite chest size and curves. Her eyes were wide and seemingly in a perpetual state of pleasant surprise. Her cheeks blossoming with an everlasting blush that was as delicate as baby pink rose petals.

"Now, who wishes to reenact the friend?" The teacher asked. All the people in the class shot their hands into the air, eager to associate with the beauty of eighth grade. Especially the boys who used to sneer at her had fallen for her physical charm.

"I see. You-"

Krista stood before everyone she grew up with. She had watched every single one grow into who they were now. From gossiping, uncouth children to awkward, approval-seeking teenagers. Somewhere in between everyone's metamorphosis they began to accept her and stopped bullying her. Some even had formally apologized for what they had done. Some pretended it never happened.

Between the solid bars of self-loathing and self-pity, surviving off of crumbs made from vain compliments and a crumbling hope that this coldness inside would thaw, Krista was lost. Regardless of what they did and how they are now, Krista was still confined within herself. The tears she once wept every night were gone, frozen inside, sinking its venomous fangs into her heart. It was a constant bleeding, a feeling that her skin was pulled too tight over her face, that something was achingly missing. It haunted her wherever she went, no matter the day or night. It was an indescribable emptiness and hollowness that she could only label as a cursing pain.

So, when the teacher finally called up a boy who was blushing and smiling at her, all she saw was blissful ignorance. He didn't know or feel like how Krista did. His worse days were when he didn't play good enough in his sports, or if his mom put higher expectations on him for his report card. He didn't know how it felt to truly be alone, to be told he was a mistake or that he should've never been born.

Krista smiled at him as he stood by her, causing his face to turn bright red. The class snickered at his obvious infatuation.

Even if their happiness and laughs burned me, if it only stopped the ache for a second, I would put my mask on and pretend I was happy. That I was normal like everyone else.

****

**-x-x-x-**

"You sure do love walking," the boy said, circling her with his bicycle as they were on their trek home.

"I like seeing the fields. It's good for your body, too," Krista gave a slight smile to him. The dirt road was damp but thankfully not muddy. The early spring air was cold but refreshing. The faint smell of flowers and new beginnings was strong enough to even inspire Krista into dreaming of simpler times.

"Hm. I guess so," he said, spitting on the ground, and cycling next to her side. For some reason, he wouldn't leave her alone. He used to be one of the bullies from Krista's past, but time had given him reasons to stop. In fact, those very same reasons made him want to get closer.

"Anyways," he huffed.

Finally, Krista thought, just get to the point of why you've been hounding me.

"I hear there's going to be a Spring Formal dance, you know? I know you're the prettiest girl in school and thought maybe you'd like to go with a varsity football player?"

Krista's eyebrows went up as she stared at him while walking. She nearly wanted to kick him off his bike for even suggesting such a thing. Not even two years ago he was running his bike tires over the back of her heels, repeating slut over and over and snickering. Now, he had the damned nerve to imply he would be doing her a service by asking her out to the stupid dance?

Krista felt her hands tighten over her book bag. She was ready to yell at him how much of a pompous idiot he was, but instead she gave an embarrassed smile.

"Grandma said I'm not allowed to go on dates till I am sixteen." Krista apologized.

"Oh, c'mon, what're we living in? The damn 20s? Come with me, I promise you'll have a good time."

Promise.

"Excuse me," Krista softly said, fluttering her eyelashes at him, "but we're at my house."

They stood before the steep driveway that led her hillside house. The boy huffed, rolling his eyes.

"So what? Come on. Come with me. I told you, it will be great. We'd look good together. Hell, it's expected." He said, smiling and resting against his bike's handlebars. It looked out of place as if he was purposely trying to pose and look good.

"I can't." Krista said, waving at him and walking up the driveway. She heard him curse and cycle away. No doubt his ego and confidence took a hit. Despite the seasons that went by, at least the bullies still followed the one rule to never go onto her family's property.

Krista made her way up the hill as the creaking of the tire swing called her up the hill like a church bell to its devout. She didn't linger outside like she would have as a kid. She went straight up the porch and into the house.

"Oh! You're home," grandma came from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Did you have a good day, grandma?" Krista asked, letting her kiss her cheek.

"Ah, yes! Abigail came over, you know her, and she said to tell you that you're growing into a fine young woman! No doubt those good looks came from my side of the family!" She fluffed her hair to show and then laughed.

"Now, tell me, are you ready for your lessons? My grandmother and her grandmother all knew how to play the piano. I will be damned if you don't yourself. We gotta get ready for the recital at church next Sunday!" Grandma smiled, taking her hand and leading her to the living room. A piano was in the corner where the old radio and dresser used to be. The instrument was brought up from storage for Krista when she began to mature.

"Alright, alright, let's see, let's do a warm up, hm?" Grandma said, sitting in her chair as Krista sat at the piano.

Krista brought her hands to the respective keys and closed her eyes, recalling the music sheets as she began to play. The first notes resonated deeply through the house, filling it with life as grandma tapped her foot in time. It was a happy tune despite the song's sadder lyrics.

"Oh, Krista, dear heart, do sing! You have such a lovely voice!" Grandma urged.

Krista kept going until the song went into the next verse.

" _Heart and soul, I begged to be adored,_  
Lost control, and tumbled overboard,  
Gladly..."

"What a pretty voice," grandma complimented.

"It is," mother said, causing Krista's fingers to slip and hit the wrong notes. She schooled herself and glanced back at her mother.

"Ah," grandma gave an annoyed sigh, "what is it, Helena? You never come done here unless you want something. Spit it out."

Her mother's eyes were cutting Krista to pieces. Her gaze was just like Krista's but sharper than icicles. It left Krista uneasy seeing her mother actually stare at her.

"I was going to ask if I could borrow money."

"Again?! Helena!"

"I can't go to work unless I have gas money."

Grandmother was glaring at mother who was equally not as pleased. Krista was thankful all the attention was taken off of her.

"How about you quit your job now? You aren't no spring chicken anymore. Go work down at the diner! I heard they have an opening and I can ask Sue if she-"

"A diner?" Mother said with disgust. Grandmother gave a scoff.

"Much more respectable than what you do now!"

"Mother, I am perfectly-"

"Look, what you did was fine up until a point. You're getting old, Helena. I will say it now but a pretty face is a brief blessing that you will lose in a matter of years. Youth is here and gone like a summer love and song, and I know you know that."

It was true what grandmother said. Mother wasn't as young as she used to be when Krista was smaller. She was beginning to show wrinkles from stress. Her eyes were losing their shine and the amount of make-up grandmother and Krista had to buy at the store was growing. With time, Krista had asked why mother was gone all night and needing so much make up but grandmother didn't ever say. Krista only found out when people in her class began to talk about sex, what it was like. One day, Krista walked in on the boys watching porn on the computer in the lab. The night after that incident when mother came back with a boyfriend, Krista began to piece things together.

"How dare you," Mother hissed, glaring at grandmother, "don't you fucking tell me if I am too old or not! I am a lot younger than you! And I am a lot prettier, too!"

Grandmother stood up and the shouting match began.

Krista blocked it out as she glanced at the corner of the living room where Papa's chair sat, empty and likely forgotten. Ever since he had to sell his car to help pay for bills, he was often in the barn drinking beer and watching TV. He never did stay in the house anymore except to eat and sleep.

"You promised that you'd pay the bills!" Grandmother quipped.

_Promise._

That word always stung whenever Krista heard it.

She always thought of the Ferris wheel and the girl she was with, Ymir. It made her remember her foolish, childish dreams of running away, being happy, and living together with everyone with no problems. Ymir had made her believe that for a moment that everything would turn out alright as long as she promised.

...Ymir...

That name always left Krista with a feeling of anger and sadness.

It filled her head with silly, simple things like smiling or laughing without hiding. Of having a true friend. It made her dream so much that she fell when reality came in. Krista broke herself against the rocks below with no way of putting herself back together.

Ymir had made her hope and then left her to rot once she realized she was far too gone to be saved.

****

**-x-x-x-**

It was late into the night when the house was finally quiet again. I sat at the couch, reading a novel, waiting for grandmother to come back from bingo, but there was no sign of her yet. Papa was still in the barn and mother was at work.

The pain was seeping into my mind again. It made everything darker. It was a filter I had no control over. I could only let it take control and hope it would pass soon. It was always worse at night, especially when I was alone.

I brought my attention back to my book, but found I read the same paragraph at least five times. I couldn't concentrate with this bitterness in the back of my throat like vomit.

I put the book down and got up to sit at the piano, sliding back the key case. The fire was my only light as I cleared my throat.

Nothing felt right. My skin was something that was suffocating, something I was unwillingly born into.  
I slammed my hands down on the keys to hear the piano squeal into the silence.

The beginning of the song was soft and cold. A single note chiming through the air around me, tugging my throbbing heart. I hit another key in accordance to the song as my fingers deftly hit every note I memorized. Then, the short introduction riffs filled the room and I opened my mouth, singing something lost, something I felt like could never be found. The notes went higher and my voice didn't break as I hit the sharpness that dug itself like a worm inside of my stomach. The deep tones were windows that were opened inside of me that aired out my suffocating mind.

" _Can you hear me?_  
Are you near me?  
Can we pretend to leave?  
And then, we'll meet again."

My voice was free from being a slave to that mask I always wore. What I sang was all this loneliness that I couldn't fill. I only ever felt alive at one point in my life, only ever thought I was unreachable by everything that sought to hurt me, and I truly believed I found someone who had the capacity to understand what I felt.

But it was all dashed because it was never true to begin with.

" _And if you carry on this way_  
Things are better if I stay.  
So long and goodnight.  
So long and goodnight."

I had given up on hope. That's what I told myself so many times.

That I would never let hope happen again because I would always be left with disappointment. So I would continuously say goodbye to it. I would put it to rest forever. I would forget it and move on. Try to survive with what's given.

Yet, I am crying as I sing.


	8. Misery Loves Company

**[ Worth by Reverb Junkie]**

The morning sun made the church light up in an array of prismatic colors. The piano stood off to the side under the stained glass. Krista sat straight and hovered her fingers over the keys. The morning hymns were sang as she played. The devout sang of forgiveness, of everlasting love, acceptance, and a promise of Heaven. They sang of pretty things and redemption.

Krista wasn't lost on the irony of the scene set before her. Those who had plenty of hope and life still in them were singing of a better life, listening to the instrument of someone as broken and bitter as her.

Krista continued to play until the last song was finished. She stopped and sat still, waiting to be excused back down to the pew where her grandmother and Papa sat.

"May we pray and thank for Krista Lenz's beautiful playing. A true and honest angel," he smiled at her, clapping his hands in appreciation.

A smile for their ignorance is what Krista gave. A fake blush to further the idea that she was a shy, devout child of God, maybe enough to where she'd be the definition of a good Catholic girl. Krista made her way to sit by her grandmother who put her arm around Krista's shoulders.

"Absolutely beautiful, Krista. The angel themselves swooned," she promised.

What a lie.

Krista took up her bible, turning it to the commanded page, and read with the preacher. Holy verses echoed into the church's high vaulted ceiling as the morning sun went high into the sky until the assembled were dismissed. Everyone went outside to chat and talk. No doubt, grandmother took Krista by her hand as a group of women came over, smiling and cooing.

"What a beautiful granddaughter! I never knew she could play piano! How dare you keep us from her!" One spoke, laughing and patting Krista's cheek. She flinched away but the lady didn't seem to notice as all eyes were on Krista's grandmother.

"I didn't know you had a granddaughter! You never spoke of her before!"

"Well, I never saw the reason to." Grandmother said.

"Oh, you are so humble!"

"Please, you have a reason to boast! Honestly, the only person that shouldn't is Hilda. Her grandson is just awful yet she speaks of him as if he's an angel!"

"Oh, Hilda! Jesus can only love her."

The group laughed away as Krista sat still, holding the nervous smile people adored.

"Anyways, what is her name?"

"Krista Lenz, she's about... Hm, you grow so fast! How old are you now, dear heart?" Grandmother asked, putting her hands on Krista's shoulders and giving a squeeze.

"Fourteen," she said.

"Oh my! Why, you're my grandson's age! Joel! Yes, why, do you know Joel?"

Krista gave a nod. Joel, the kid who bullied her all the way till she became pretty and then suddenly had a change of heart, yeah, the same Joel on the bike who wouldn't give up.

"Why, you know," the woman giggled, "he is quite handsome and I dare say you two would get alone well!"

"Oh, Sofia!" Grandmother chuckled as the others gave mischievous laughs.

"Really, though, Gladys! She is so beautiful and talented! Why haven't we seen her sooner?"

"My, she is exactly like Helena! So beautiful and elegant!"

"Yes, do tell!"

"Gladys!"

"Oh," Grandmother was brimming with smugness at all the attention, "she was always so. I doted on her since she was a child and gave her home studies of the bible. One day, she begged to go to the church with me and I brought her. She's a good girl, she is, and I never brought her with because she is so shy. Such a sweet girl!"

Nobody suspected an ounce of deceit when grandmother lied. They ate it up like they were children with sweets. Krista never once was given lessons or readings of the bible till today. Grandmother only would inform her to remind her how much of a sinner she was and how Krista should be devout to God and Jesus for they saved her from never being born. Krista never begged to be brought here because she didn't need a preacher to make her feel guilty for her faults—every night her bed was the altar and her ceiling was the confession booth.

Grandmother gave Krista a pat on the shoulder.

"You can go to your grandfather now. Me and the girls are only going to talk awhile longer," she said as the women waved at Krista. Some even tried to plant kisses on Krista's cheeks but she shied away, blushing and quickly walking back to the old truck. Krista hopped into it on the passenger's side and scooted to sit in the middle seat by Papa. She could smell the lingering whiskey on his coat.

"Your grandmother is bullshitting, isn't she?" He asked. Krista glanced up to see a small smile on his lips as he stared at the rear-view mirror where she and the group stood.

"Um-" Krista didn't know what to say to that. Papa only ever spoke of simple things – how's the weather? Is the coffee done? Nothing that would stray from small talk.

"Tell me, Krista," he huffed, taking out a flask from his pocket and sipping from it, "do you believe in God? Jesus?

"No? Well, I don't blame you. People preach about them, easy to tell you that you're a sinner- but that isn't God or Jesus." He said quietly.

Krista could only assume the alcohol made his tongue loose.

"What they say, what they think it is, well, isn't it... The power, the holier than thou stuff... That ain't religion." He coughed a bit, grimacing, and capping his flask and sitting back again, staring off in the distance.

"Um... wh-what is it then... Papa?"

He scoffed then laughed a bit. It was full of bitterness and something else.

"A bunch of bullshit."

**-x-x-x-**

"Who is Joel going with?"

"I don't know. I think he doesn't have a date, like, well, he does—but Krista won't say yes."

"What?! But Joel is such a hottie. I mean, like, I would go with him, but, don't you think she should just say yes?"

"She's just being a bitch. Look, that sounded bad, but think about it! I mean, he's nice and he's hot, his family owns the convenience store, I don't see what is not to like!"

"Well, she is sort of a prude..."

"Sort of? You know that she knows all the boys like her. I'm just say that she's being a bitch because she's hurting their feelings over it. All of us other girls are put off to the side because she's playing hard to get, liking the attention! I'm only saying that it's unfair and she should stop being a bitch about it!"

"...You're saying bitch a lot..."

"Hey, does it look like we're in pre-school? Everyone in high school will be cussing. Get used to it, really. Stop being so immature."

Krista had left the middle of class to go to the bathroom. She had to get away from everyone. Joel kept smiling and passing her notes, begging her to go to the dance with him. He was getting so adamant about it that it was starting to scare her. Just as I calmed down and was ready to return to class those other girls came in and began to talk loudly.

"Hey, is Anne going to be able to play next game?"

"Mm I think so. I mean, she says she sprained her ankle, but I'm just saying...she's a crybaby. I doubt it really was that bad."

"Yeah, but it's that other team—the one from the reservation."

"Right... The one that gave a black eye to Alice, right?"

"Yeah! What was their pitcher's name—Ummmmmmmmm, Elinor, I think? Right?"

"Haha! No! Her name was Ymir! That's some ghetto ass-"

The girls screamed in surprise when Krista bolted out the door, staring at them. The realization she was there for their entire conversation left both of the girl's faces white.

"K-Krista! I—what she said—I-"

"You said Ymir? Did I hear that right?"

"Oh, um," the girls glanced between each other and nodded, "y-yeah. Um, her name is Ymir."

"What's her last name?"

"I—we don't know!"

"She's playing for Shiganshina this Friday?"

"Uh, she should... Um, do you know her...Krista?"

Krista stood there, wondering how to answer that. Years went by, the endless hours she spent at the County Fair, expecting to see her friend pop up, smile, and take her hand, and to only be disappointed every time. It was apparent to her that the small moment shared between her and Ymir was nothing more than childish friendliness. It only meant something to her and not Ymir.

If that was true, Krista didn't know whether or not she knew her. They never exchanged numbers, didn't talk every day.

They hadn't seen each other in six years.

_Promise me-_

"Yes, she's a good friend."

**-x-x-x-**

"Krista!"

Krista stopped studying and glanced at the clock. It was thirty minutes before the usual dinner time. She wondered if grandmother had forgotten something or required her to set the table early. She closed her history book and got up, walking down stairs and saw grandmother sitting in the living room, watching TV.

"Krista."

Near the door was mother, dressed up and ready to go. It was the first time Krista ever heard her call out for her.

"Are you busy?" She asked without a smile. Krista dumbly choked on her own words, blushing, and glancing at her feet, embarrassed to sound so unrefined in front of her mother's presence.

"Uh, no. Wh-what do you need me to do?" Krista asked, waiting for her to tell her bittersweet things of how she was so worthless. Waiting for her to grip her jawline with cold fury until bruises or scratches formed.

But it never came.

"Good. We're going out shopping. Come, let's go. First, fix your hair—hm, make it more like mine. I want us to match." She hummed.

Krista sputtered and ran to her room to do as she was told, wondering why mother suddenly invited her to go with her. It was too late to go out to the city which was an hour and half drive from here. Krista styled her hair like mothers and put on nicer clothing and ran back down to her mom. Standing next to her, she felt so inferior. Her mother was the definition of beauty, grace, and style.

Krista was... well...she was just-

"Perfect," she said. She glanced towards the parlor.

"Mother! I am taking Krista with me to go to the city! Call the school tomorrow and tell them she's sick. We won't be back till then."

"What? Oh, whatever, Helena. Go. Shoo." Grandmother huffed with a roll of her eyes.

Just like that, mother made her free from grandmother's steel-like grasp. Krista stared at her in bewilderment.

"Um," what had Krista ever called her? She never once said mom. She realized she never directly referred to her.

"What?"

"I—What're we doing there...? I-I don't have money to go shopping..." Krista stuttered and nearly cursed at herself for sounding so childish and stupid.

"That's fine. I'm paying. Now, hurry, we don't have all night. We need to flaunt your natural beauty. Come, Krista." She gave a smile.

A smile.

It was there and gone in a matter of seconds.

Just like the clouds parting and letting the sun to shine.

For a moment, Krista felt warmth. Genuine, unadulterated happiness.


	9. Chains, Jail Cells, and Her

**[ Stolen Dance by Milky Chance]**

Mother brought Krista to the department store. It was bigger than the high school with seemingly endless rows of clothes. Krista had never been in such a large store before. It left her dumbly staring.

"Let's find you some clothes," mother motioned to the various racks. Krista saw the teenager section and was about to go to it until her hand was on Krista's shoulder.

"No, not those word T-shirts. I'm talking good clothes—woman's clothes. Dresses." She corrected, guiding her to the woman's section where pricy cocktail dresses were. Krista skimmed through them as mother went off to look at something. In one of the racks that were on sale was a decent, slim black dress. It didn't show off too much skin-

"Try this on." Mother put a thin red dress in her hands. Krista held it out, putting it against herself and saw it was dangerously short and had a really low cut that would definitely show cleavage.

"Um-" Krista didn't want to tell her that she didn't like it, but Krista wasn't comfortable with how revealing it was. It was very-

_Slut, Slut, Slut-_

"Just try it on. It's only a dress." Krista could hear her disappointment.

Krista took the dress in her hand and went to the changing room with it. She swallowed all her insecurities as she undressed and wiggled into the it. Once it was on, she stared at her reflection in the mirror and was surprised to almost be mistaken for her mother. Krista's eyes and everything were almost an exact replica of her. All that was missing was make up.

"Krista, come out. Let me see."

Krista stopped examining myself and hastily went to the door while trying to keep the dress from riding up. She unlatched the lock and opened it to show mother. When she raised an eyebrow, Krista removed her hands from the bottom of the dress, nervous that it would ride up again. She felt so awkward in it. Mother pulled out her cellphone and began to take several pictures.

"M-Mo-"

"You look great," she said, but there was an edge to it, "now, try these on."

She handed Krista several other dresses and outfits.

"When you try one on, come out here and I will take a picture if it looks good enough. Hurry, we don't have all night."

Krista was shoved back into the room with a heap of clothes. She wasn't sure why she was taking pictures, but perhaps it was for her mother's MySpace account. Krista often heard parents uploading pictures of their children to it.

The idea of mother wanting to show Krista to people made her smile as she began to try the next outfit.

Maybe now she actually wanted to accept Krista into her life.

****

**-x-x-x-**

_May 30th 2008._

Nine minutes and three seconds till three.

Thirty minutes till the softball game.

The teacher's dawdling was only background noise and the noise of the clock was amplified as if it consumed the whole room. Krista's eyes followed the ticking of the clock and she never realized till now how slow time was. Ever since she heard that she could see Ymir again everything felt in slow motion..

"Hey, Krista," Joel kicked her shoe, knocking her out of her trance. Krista bit her lip, forcing a smile and glancing at him.

"Why you watching that clock so much, huh? Excited for the dance?" Joel whispered with a grin. Krista shook her head.

"I'm going to see a friend," Krista said, feeling too excited to not share. His eyes widened a bit at hearing it, even a few people that sat nearby craned over to listen.

"A friend? Who? I didn't know you were close with anyone," he asked, curious.

"Ymir," Krista could feel her cheeks hurt as she began to smile at being reunited with her. Krista felt like her stomach was bursting at the seams with how much it fluttered and rolled.

It had been so long—did she still have long hair? How tall was she? She would be fifteen, a Freshman in high school.

"Ymir? Hey, I heard of her, she gave that one girl a black eye? You know her?" Joel didn't seem to approve with the way his eyes narrowed and he frowned.

"I guess... I haven't seen her in a long time."

"Yeah, well, I don't think she's the kind of person to be close with," Joel told her, concerned, "she always gets in fights with our teams—Volleyball, softball, basketball. All that. Don't hang with her. She'd probably get in trouble and blame it on you."

Memories of her outstretched hand as Krista was pulled away by her grandmother resurfaced. Something Krista knew Ymir never meant to happen.

"She's not like that," she defended.

"How do you know?" Joel asked, "you said so yourself, you haven't seen in her a long while. People change... and I don't want you getting hurt."

Coming from someone who threw rocks at me not too long ago, Krista thought.

But, he was right—people did change.

What if she did? She might have become a bully from the sounds of it.

Or...

She might have even forgotten all about me.

"Krista, just don't go. She sounds like trouble. Real friends don't do that. Real friends look out for each other, Krista, and I'm your-" the bell went off as he was reaching out to Krista.

"Oh," Joel's eyes lit up, glancing at the clock, "time went by fast. Hey, say, Krista, are you-"

Krista was gone before he could ask her out to the dance again.

Krista raced out the front of the school doors and to the softball fields where the high school team was warming up. The opposing team, the Shiganshina Scouts, were further in the left outfield, practicing before the game. As Krista got closer and finally made it and sat on the bleachers, she looked for her, but it was hard to distinguish any of her memorable features—dark skin, amber eyes, long, dark hair. Practically every person on the Scouts were dark and had long hair. Only a very few were light skinned.  
"Hey! Why'd you run here!? You sure you never played sports?!" Joel called out, running to Krista with his gang of friends. She cringed inwardly when they perched around her like vultures, glancing at the other team.

"Any hot ones?"

"Oh, what's that? You like them all wild and shit?"

"Fuck no! I meant, look at that one—the blonde, she's pretty, right?"

"I like them fiesty! I like my girls-"

"What the hell, man? Ha-ha! You're fucking weird!"

"Hey, which one is Ymir?" Joel asked, staring at the Scouts with Krista.

"I-I don't know."

"Ymir?" One of his lackeys piped up, squinting over at them.

"Hey, she's the one that fucking beaned Alice in the eye, right? That was funny shit! Ha-ha!"

"She's the scary tall one!"

"Yeah, she got freckles, too!"

If it was one thing Krista was grateful for was that the boys checked out every girl and remembered every detail of them. It was finally useful.

"Oh, they're coming back to the dugouts.. Let's look for her," Joel nodded. One by one, they shuffled in. Krista's home team was blue and white and their team green and white.

"Not that one, not that—hey, there's Mikasa, Leon. Don't you like her?" Joel grinned.

"Shut up, man!" Leon kicked Joel's back, snickering.

Each one went by until finally—Krista saw her.

Dark brown hair, short, taller than most, and freckles, but her eyes weren't looking at Krista at all. She went into the dugout and Krista rose to greet her, but Joel took her hand.

"Hey, hey, wait till half-time. You can't just go into the dugouts. That's their area." Joel frowned then removed his hand, looking at it.

"Krista, your hands are sweaty—are you ok?"

The boys around Krista giggled and whispered.

"Sweaty hands good for hand jobs," one said a little too loud.

Krista sat back down, putting her hands in her lap and staring out at the field.

Krista was sort of glad Joel held her back.

What would she have said if she went in there? She would've made a fool of herself by sprinting in there and standing before Ymir without a word to say.

What was she going to say when the game was over?

Krista nearly choked on her own breath at the thought as Joel raised an eyebrow at her. Thankfully, his friends didn't notice as they were making crude jokes. Krista glanced away from the field and hiding her gaze in her lap. Anxiety was digging into her back as she thought more about the situation.

How could Krista word that she never forgotten about Ymir without sounding dramatic?

They were only children when they linked their pinkies.

Was it weird Krista thought of her promise every other day? There were no elegant words to describe that she clutched that memory too close to her heart. Nothing she could think of to say that wouldn't make her sound stupid or strange.

"Game's starting," Joel informed Krista, lightly shaking her shoulder. Her eyes darted up as the home team took to batting and the Scouts went to the field.

Just like the girls said, the pitcher was Ymir. Her legs were long and slender and her frame even looked frail like a newborn fawn.

"Play ball!" The umpire yowled as he got behind the catcher.

Ymir gave a nod and wound up her arm in a fast and fluid windmill motion. She pitched and the ball was a blur straight into the catcher's mitt, slapping upon impact and causing dirt to go up in clouds.

"STRIKE!"

"Holy fucking shit!" Leon stared.

"That fucker went in there fucking fast! Jesus! DON'T GET HIT, LUCY!" Joel exclaimed as all the boys were entranced at the speed.

"Fuck that, I can pitch faster than that!"

"Like fuck you can!"

She was just like how Krista remembered her—fiery and full of life. She wasn't one bit surprised to see that it translated well into sports, but she wasn't amazed at her prowess.

No. Krista couldn't help but smile stupidly as she covered her mouth with her hands.

I had found Ymir.

This was Ymir.

Krista's heart was swelling and she swore that she caught Ymir's gaze once from under her hat.

"Hey, Krista," Joel said, scooting closer to her and licking his lips, "so, you found Ymir and all. She doesn't seem bad... but, I was going to ask...about the dance. You never gave me an answer."

Krista was tired of hearing his voice and his question over and over again.

"I did... I said I couldn't."

"Well, I talked to your grandma, you know, and she said it'd be perfect. She said you're just being shy... it's alright, Krista. I won't do anything bad."

Another pitch came sailing in as the home team team swung at it.

"STRIKE! YOU'RE OUT!"

"Krista?"

Ymir glanced up and over at her again.

Then she smiled.

"Yeah, ok."

Krista's world was silent once more as she could only see her friend. Not in an imaginary place above the clouds, unreachable beyond childhood, but in the flesh and right before her, smiling and very much real.

****

**-x-x-x-**

The home team lost horribly.

Two of their girls were injured with a sprained ankle and swollen bruise on one of their stomachs from an 'accidental' bean.

The boys had left and Joel stuck around, insisting on giving Krista a ride back home on his bike. She didn't know why because she always said no. Joel gave a wink to her as she went to the other team's dugout. Krista regretted that she even said yes to going with him to the dance. She only said it so he'd shut up and she could focus on Ymir and the game.

As the teams were cleaning up and filtering out, Krista saw Ymir by her team, doing a quickly rally, and then pulling away.

Their gazes met.

Krista felt her stomach descend as the girl ran towards her. Krista's hands came undone from their nervous fists at her the hem of her shirt and she felt really stupid.

When the girl was up close, she was a lot taller than Krista.

Her eyes were grey and not amber.

Krista made a mistake.

"Um—I"

"I'm Ilse! Remember? Ymir's sister! We met at the fair!" Ilse grinned, patting the dirt away from her leggings.

"Ilse," Krista's eyes lit up as her mouth gaped open at the realization.

"Yeah, so you do remember!"

"Yeah!" Krista couldn't help but smile back at her as she laughed.

"Wow! Small world, huh? Do you live here?"

"Oh, yeah, um, I live in this town."

"Yeah, Ymir and I live across the river, Shiganshina! I thought you lived much further since we never really saw you after that. We went to the car show and never saw you there with your grandpa after that. Um," Ilse looked awkward, glancing at her.

"Um, so, uh...did he, your Papa, that is, um, did he pass away? If he did, I'm so-"

"No, no," Krista waved her hands in front of herself. Ilse's face went red before laughing more, realizing her misunderstanding. Seeing her like that reminded Krista so much of Ymir that it made Krista's bones ache.

"Oh, that's good! I was scared about that! But, yeah, we live only about thirty minutes from you! Yeah, Ymir never-" she went quiet as if remembering something. Her smile was wiped from her face and her eyes went downcast.

"Ymir...where is she?"

"Oh," Ilse glimpsed up and then over her shoulder at her team, "Um, she... she, uh, you know she plays softball, right?"

"Um, recently... I only knew a few days ago."

"Oh, yeah, uh, she, uh, she hurt her ankle. So, um, she's at home. It just makes me sad. Yeah. She's at home."

Ilse was a fucking terrible liar.

"...I see..."

"Maybe, I, uh, can get your number? I can give it to her and we can hang out sometime?" Ilse suggested, peering down at Krista and mustering a smile.

"Oh, y-yeah, I can. Um...do you have a pen and paper?"

"Oh, shit," Ilse laughed once more, running to the dugout, "no, hold on."

"Anyone got a pen and paper?" She asked as her teammates glanced at her and then all peeked around the corner to see whose number Ilse was scoring.

"She's pretty."

"Ilse, are you a lesbian?"

"WHAT?! NO!" Ilse roared, grabbing the pen and pencil, returning to Krista with a red face as she jot down her number for Ilse. The taller girl stuffed it into her back pocket.

Someone made kissing noises beyond the dugout.

"Knock it off!" Ilse yelled over her shoulder as the girls giggled.

"So, uh, can you tell Ymir...that I said hi? And-" that Krista never forgotten their promise.

"Oh...yeah, definitely." Ilse said but her tone was strange. Did she realize she was a horrible liar?

They stood there, staring at each other until Ilse began to awkwardly back away slowly.

"I will, um, catch you later, alright? I will tell Ymir, uh...yeah." Ilse nodded and gave a shy smile and went running back to her team as they burst into gossip chatter over how Ilse knew Krista.

Krista didn't leave the softball field as she sat on the bleachers, staring out where Ilse had stood, where Ymir should have been.

Where was Ymir?

The opposing team loaded up on their bus and left, leaving Krista with Joel who wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"She didn't seem bad," Joel said, walking Krista to his bike.

"Not bad at all."

He was right that Ilse seemed like a good person, but Krista still didn't know about Ymir. It was like every time she sought after her the more she became distant—going to the fair in hopes of seeing her and somehow missing her. For six years straight. Then the softball game.

Ymir was and seemed to forever only be a shadow over her heart, reminding her of something lost, something she doubted she could ever get back.

"Let's get you home. You need to get ready for the dance." Joel said, patting the back of his bike where a spare seat thing was. Krista could really care less what the fuck it was. She didn't care about a stupid dance or the new skirt her mother bought for her she was wearing today.

All she wanted was Ymir here. That's all she wished for as she fell asleep last night.

She was only a ghost in Krista's mind that haunted her.

**[Clarification:**

**Rural schools often allow middle school students to play in high school sports due to the small amount of students per grade.**

**'Bean' or 'Beaned' is a term used when the batter is hit by the pitch. Often used when the pitcher intentionally intended for it.**

**Originally, this chapter was much larger but I had to break it up or else I feel it would have been too much to read at once. Next chapter will be come within a week or two along with a disclaimer regarding the future of Dream Catcher.]**


	10. My Name is Krista Lenz

**[Woe by Say anything  
A Gain by Devendra Banhart]**

**[Dream Catcher was never meant to be a light story, or dark just for the shock value. It will contain heavier themes. Proceed with caution.]**

Krista stifled a whimper when mother's hands were roughly working on her hair, brushing it out without care of the tangles.

"If you take care of this more, it wouldn't be as bad," she scowled.

"Hey, you hear me?" She took her jawline into her hand, squeezing tightly, digging her nails in, as Krista quickly gave a nod. She thankfully released.

"I will do your make up. Get you in that dress we got you," Mother said.

"Um...I-Isn't it t-too short?" Krista asked to only receive a smack on the head. She bit into her bottom lip, staring down at the floor in shame for asking a stupid question.

"No dress is too short. You'll wear it and you'll be the prettiest girl at the dance. The only thing you're good for," Helena snorted.

Only good thing I was for.

Just like the paintings on the wall, Krista was to be still, never give her opinion, and let whoever viewed her determine who and how she was and how much she was worth.

Mother put Krista into the dress and fussed over her hair and make up until it was dark—ten minutes late to the dance. Joel's father and him were downstairs, waiting, and talking away with Grandma. Krista could hear his father's drawl and recalled what he had said to Ymir, Ilse, and Sasha when they were at the fair so long ago.

"There," Mother pulled away, staring at Krista in the mirror. She took out her phone, snapping a picture.

"You look good."

Krista stared at her reflection—seeing the blush, the eyeshadow, and everything she had done.

Krista was beautiful.

She was what her mother and grandmother wanted her to be. She wasn't a disappointment or mistake—right now, she was exactly what they hoped for.

"Hurry," Mother said, beckoning for Krista to get up, slip on her high heels, and to walk downstairs. Joel was in a dress shirt and slacks, leaning against the living room's door frame. When he heard the tapping of heels, he turned to see Krista. His eyes lit up like fireworks. His father went over, staring up at what his son was gaping out.

"Oh, well, look there, we got ourselves a fine, young miss," Joel's father smiled, taking his hat off and nodding his head in respect.

"Two of them," Helena came down, too.

Now Joel's father was speechless for a bit before laughing.

"I dun' know about that, Helena. You're getting up there in the age," he smirked, walking over to Mother who glared at him.

He snickered.

"Oooweeeee, what a mighty glare," he laughed as Mother shot daggers into him and left to go back upstairs. Joel's father frowned and went up after her.

"Hey, hey, I was only kidding, Helen, c'mon. You look great!"

"Excuse me," grandmother said before Joel's father could chase her back into her room, "but I believe you had your chance. Now, go take these two to the dance—Krista you look stunning. You definitely are my granddaughter."

Krista grinned wide, unable to hold back her happiness as Joel took her hand. Joel led her to the car and they were off to the dance.

All Krista knew was this feeling of acceptance. If all it took to be loved was to put on make up, spend extra time on her hair, and wear dresses, Krista would do it every day.

In those moments I had forgotten about the softball game, Ilse, Ymir, and the promise.

****

**-x-x-x-**

"Go ahead, Krista, Joel will be with you here soon," his father nodded. Krista did as told and went to the gym of the school where the dance was held. As soon as she reached the doors she saw the fee booth- $10 per person, or $15 couple.

Krista didn't realize there was a fee. She bit her lip as she went back but heard harsh whispers come from Joel and his father as Krista returned. Quietly, Krista hid behind a parked truck and listened to the two.

"Dad!"

"No, here, take it—the one time I was without a condom you were born. Not my proudest moment but we gotta' live with our mistakes, but I won't let you live with it. Take it."

"Dad! What—no!" Joel hissed.

"I said take it, boy!"

"I—I'm not going to-" a slap went across Joel's face and the contact of skin and palm echoed in the parking lot.

"No! When I say something, you better fuckin' listen and do it, understand me, boy?!"

"Yes, dad."

"Good, now here, yeah, that should do you good if things escalate. Now go, your girlfriend is waitin' and make me proud!" His father told him as he hopped back into his truck and tore away from the school. It was quiet for minutes as Krista came out from behind the vehicle to see Joel staring at the condom in his hand. He turned and then yelped at seeing her. The contraception fell out of his hand as he went white.

"Oh—Oh, Krista, did—Oh, you hea—Krista, no, it's not like that, Krista, I am so-"

"It's fine."

There was nowhere to go to hide from this awkward situation so Krista might as well pretend it was ok.  
"D—I'm not like that." He quickly threw the condom into the back of someone's truck with a frown.

"Not like that at all, Krista... I-I just want to dance. I promise."

Promise.

"You only want to dance?"

"Yeah, that's all I want to do... My—my fath-"

"I heard what he said."

"Wha—that? Oh...oh yeah?"

"Joel, you aren't a mistake."

Joel's eyes went wide as he sat there. His hand went up to the red mark on his cheek as he looked down.

"Y-You don't know tha-"

"I do... You should know, Joel." Krista could see the memories run through his mind when he bullied her. His eyes were like an open book as his tall, broad figure seemed to crumble before Krista's eyes.

"...Krista..."

"Why did you do it?"

Joel was quiet for a long time, kicking at imaginary rocks in the parking lot. He couldn't bring his gaze up.

"I... I didn't know better... I guess, I don't know, Krista—I was young and stupid. What I did...well, an apology would never do...I never gave you one, because it'd seem stupid... I had done so much and yet you were always kind and good to me, Krista... Krista... It would just...just seem like I whatever I said wouldn't mean a thing because it can't make up for it, no, it could never." He sputtered out.

Krista shifted around, feeling her legs beginning to chill at the cold, spring night, but she listened to him. For the first time, Krista understood why he never said anything, and had to finally agree with something with him—he was right that an apology would never get her forgiveness.

"Krista... I'm really sorry... I could say it all I want, but it won't do no good...and you'll hate me if you don't already but I always liked you—you were always so pretty and nice... but it came out all wrong. An-and my friends...they didn't help. Shoot, Krista, I'm real sorry." He sniffled as he began to tear up, sighing, and wiping at his face. Krista watched him to show him she wouldn't relent from judging him and his apology.

Yet, she couldn't help but see pieces of herself in him.

"I'll say it again," Krista went to him, taking his hand, "you're not a mistake. Now, let's go to the dance? You said you wanted only wanted to do that, right?"

The look on his face was so many things—guilt, anxiety, and then finally gratefulness.

"Yeah... thank you," he brought Krista's hand up to his mouth, giving it a kiss, but all she could remember were the many times his friends jabbed tacks into the very same palm, or flicked her fingers with their pencils.

Joel led them into the gym after paying the fee and his friends and their dates were there. All of them greeted, laughing, and what not—whatever, that wasn't Krista's concern. Her attention was on the other girls who wore modest dresses. Most of them wore lengths that were below their knees while hers was high on her thighs.

"Wow," one his friends said, leering at Krista, "damn, she's beautiful!"

"Sexy!"

She felt a blush race up to her face before Joel scoffed, taking her under his arm.

"Hey, she always was, and stop looking at my date! What about yours?" It was too late. All the attention was on Krista as most of the boys were longingly staring at her and many of the girls were giving disgusted looks. Krista wished she had changed—no, she wished she told Joel no when he asked her to the dance.

"Hey," Joel seemed to have noticed as he brought Krista to a lone table in the corner, "what's wrong? If you don't like what they say I will talk to them."

"I... I don't like my dress... my mother picked it out."

Joel glanced at Krista's face before leaning back in his chair to get a better look of the dress.

"Well...it is sort of short."

"It's too short."

Joel grinned, looking up at Krista. She didn't understand why he was smiling as if it was an inside joke. After a few seconds he did relent.

"Fits you a little."

"...What?"

"'Cause you're so short." He laughed as he hid his face in his hands, looking away and then glancing back at Krista.

"Hey! You're actually smiling!" Joel pointed out, astonished as Krista felt her cheeks begin to hurt. She couldn't hold back the honest giggle that came.

"You're laughing!"

As Krista stared at him she began to realize he wasn't bad and that maybe they did have more in common than she thought. He understood being told he was a mistake and he knew how it felt to be hit. They both knew that they weren't lucky like the others who were born into better families.

Maybe, we could be good friends.

After a few minutes of conversation, Joel led Krista to the dance floor when a slow, country song came on. He held her and put his chin on top of her head. He did everything right, doing things every girl dreamed of, but there was nothing in Krista's heart for him.

Maybe discomfort if anything.

"Krista?"

Krista pulled away to look up at him as he stared into her eyes. Slowly he closed his eyes, leaning closer, lips quivering.

Or not.

Krista turned her face away from him and felt his kiss land on the side of her head. His lips were only there momentarily as he pulled away, startled.

Krista looked back at him, frowning, and saw his expression change from surprise to hurt.

"U—Uh did... did I move too fast?"

"You said you only wanted to dance." Krista reminded him. He flinched at her words.

"I... I did...and I also said that I really liked you...I thought...you'd know that—I was...you know...going to try...and make you my girlfriend... I thought you wanted that? You didn't say no."

He said he promised, promised that he only wanted to dance.

Krista fucking hated promises.

It only reminded her of Ymir and their promise and that she was not there at the game—that even after all these years Krista wished she could find her, tell Ymir how horrible Krista's life was, and how Krista wished she was never born. Make Ymir realize that Krista was broken and it was all her fault for making Krista promise her things she could never make true.

Krista should had never promised anything.

Krista should have never believed that promising something would make it true.

"Bring me home."

**-x-x-x-**

Krista came home to her grandmother and mother fighting in the living room. Surprisingly, Papa was in the living room, sitting on his chair, and reading. If Krista wasn't so pissed, she would have thought she was small, again, and that he would smile at her and ask if she wanted to go to the barn.

"No! You will not bring your client here!" Grandmother screeched.

"He's already on his way! He's paying good money! If you don't let me then we won't have enough for the hay for the horses!"

"Helena!" Grandmother was boiling as she stood before her, glaring at her.

"Only this once, or God help me! Only this once!" She roared, stomping towards her chair in the living room and angrily plopping down on it and watching TV.

Mother sighed and went to turn to see that Krista was back home early.

She bristled as if her daughter had ripped her favorite clothes.

"What are you doing here?" She growled, marching to Krista and grabbing her jawline.

"M-Mother!" Krista cried out as her nails dug into her flesh. She could feel the skin split under them as she ripped her claws away from Krista's face and gave her a swat across the face.

"Go to your fucking room!" She raised her hand again in warning as Krista fled up the stairs as fast as she could and glanced back at Mother, heart beating hard in her chest. Any anger from before was wiped and replaced with fear.

"No, I said go, not fucking look at me stupid from the top of the stairs!" She screamed and bolted up after Krista.

Not once had Krista ever seen her this angry.

Krista quickly ran to her room, slamming the door. She couldn't even cry out in fear. Her throat was locked up and she felt like she couldn't even breathe.

Krista darted into her closet, closing that door, too, and covering her face with her hands, hiding, and relearning how to breathe. She wished she could disappear.

She wished Ymir was there so she could hide behind her, see her strong and keeping Krista safe.

"You fucking ugly, little bitch, if I see you out of your room for the rest of the night, I will grab the biggest willow branch and nail your ass to the wall. You hear me?! I will make you wish you were never born! You fucking mistake!"

Eventually, awhile after Mother left and Krista heard the bathroom door open, indicating she was putting on her face.

Krista crawled out of her closet and slipped into bed, clutching the skin taut above her heart. It felt like knives were stabbing into it. Her stomach was screaming for her to run, hide, or, better yet, to go die.

She was a mistake.

A damn mistake.

Krista closed her eyes, trying to pretend she was dead.

What would it be like?

It would be quiet. It would be everything and nothing—it was something that Krista deserved, because she was just like it. Nobody would be there and she would never be aware of herself.

An eternal sleep where everything was perfect and happy.

Krista must had fallen asleep or lost track of time, because she jumped when she heard her door knob turn. Krista brought the blankets tight to her body, afraid that her mother came back to finish the job, but the hallway's light filtered in and she saw a large, dark silhouette.

It wasn't Grandma.

It wasn't Mother.

It wasn't Papa.

The man came closer and Krista never realized how small she really was till he towering above her.

**-x-x-x-**

Helena sat at her computer, picking through the pictures the Photo-shop guy sent back to her. She had given him all the pictures of Krista she thought were pretty enough to upload to her advertisement as a female consort.

When Helena stood to stretch she saw herself in the mirror—the wrinkles that were setting in, her eyes didn't shine, and her hair wasn't as vibrant as before. She was in her mid thirties but she already felt sixty. People always said Krista took a lot after her. That she was a spitting image of her. At first, Helena hated it and every fiber of her daughter's being, but, now, as she glanced back and found the perfect photo, she was grateful she could use her daughter's photo as advertisement. She needed pictures that looked young to attract the men with money.

If she used her daughter's pictures and pretended it was her she could get away with it. In the darkness, under the sheets, the men would never be able to distinguish that she looked a lot older than her pictures. All she wanted was the money and the men only wanted company.

They would never know the difference.

**-x-x-x-**

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" Mother screamed as she flicked the lights on and raced over to Krista's bed, tearing at the man's arm, trying to pull him off, but he shrugged her off.

"I paid for it! Get out of here, bitch!"

"NO! THAT IS NOT-" Mother was slapped down and the man had his hands on Krista's shoulders once more.

Krista was in a daze.

It was a nightmare.

Nothing could be this terrible.

Just a nightmare.

"GET OUT OF HERE!" Papa barged in. Then Papa saw Krista as she stared blankly with the man's arms on her shirtless body. The way the man had his belt on the floor right by her dress.

Papa's face distorted into pure disgust and unadulterated rage.

"LEAVE MY BABY ALONE!" He roared. In slow motion, he came forward, pulling the man off with surprising strength and punched him across the back of the head. He began to pummel the man with trained jabs as if it was only yesterday that he was a soldier, but time had dulled his strength and discipline. The man easily began to beat Papa as the two staggered into the hallway, a flurry of fists and blood. Grandma came up the stairs, screaming with a frying pan, getting past the two and clobbered the man on the ribs. He howled and was pushed towards the stairs. He tottered over the edge and took Papa with him.

A loud snap and crunch and tumble was heard.

Krista finally was snapped from her daze. She could hear Papa's loud wails of pain and her grandmother hitting the man over and over with the frying pan till he was subdued.

"PAPA!" Krista tore off the sheets and ran downstairs to see him broken not too far from the base of the stairs.

"...Krista...?"

He only stared up at her, hazy before his head hit the ground. Krista ran down the stairs, sitting next to him, ignoring that she was only clad in her undergarments.

"PAPA!"

Papa stared up at Krista, tears running down his face as he winced and whimpered, blood trickling from his nose and busted lip. Krista held his head in her lap, wishing she could ease his pain, wishing that this night had never happened.

"...I'm so sorry, Krista."

"Papa?"

"...I...I'm sorry, Krista... I never did...never was brave... even after all these years... Chris, I'm so sorry."

Krista body shook as she began to cry, holding herself in fear as realization hit her. Papa did his best to comfort Krista by putting his hand over hers, sobbing with his granddaughter.

"I...I didn't come in time... you are so hurt, Chris..."

Krista clung to his hand, trying to will these feelings and thoughts away.

Everything felt wrong in her body. It was like worms burrowed under her skin, wiggling and crawling where she couldn't reach. As if the places Krista couldn't see had gaping, infected holes in it, seeping with visceral fluids and breeding maggots. Krista's mind and stomach were nervously bleeding from the inside out, drowning her as she began to hyperventilate.

Krista had never felt so ugly and disgusting. It was stuck on her body like a layer of oil and grime that no scrubbing could do as Krista clawed at her arms, trying to rid herself of vulnerability till Grandma had to hold her arms down.

The rest of the night was a blur of sirens, her mother screaming, the man coming to, yelling he was innocent and that Mother had set him up, ambulance came and took Papa, grandmother was crying, and a woman led Krista to the backseat of a cop car that brought her far away from home.

A whisper of incomprehensible questions that brought a wrenching feeling to Krista's stomach. Nights that felt like years where every shadow had its hands out, wanting to touch her.

A blur and, then, finally, someone saying she had a new home.

A promise of a new beginning and being happy.

**-x-x-x-**

It's been two weeks since all of that.

I've thought of all the memories that led me up to this moment of sitting in a limousine, being driven to my new home with my biological father who decided to take me in after hearing what happened. My previous home was deemed unsuitable for me to live in due to domestic abuse and prostitution.

The last thing I heard from home was from my father's assistance, Pixis, who told me that my grandfather was recovering from a few broken bones in the hospital. It was the same time he told me that I could no longer keep in contact with my old family.

"We are about here, Miss Reiss. You will find the Reiss Estate to be most accommodating!" Pixis announced with a small smile, but I didn't like how he looked at me.

I didn't like anyone looking at me.

I was an ugly monster, scarred and violated.

I clutched my hoodie tightly to my body.

It was a terrible nightmare.

All of this was just a sick joke.

"I dare say you will find yourself very happy living here."

As we entered the white iron gates and up to a mansion on the outskirts of Trost, I remembered Ymir holding my pinky, smiling.

Promise me that you'll be happy.

_What a sick joke._

**[Dream Catcher has finally finished the introduction of Krista's character and will truly, truly begin.**

**As stated at the beginning, it was never intended to be a happy story, but it will never be a story for the sake of shock value and its darkness alone.**

**It will contain hard, dark themes. It will explore the different worlds Ymir and Krista come from with others and themselves. It will be a story of two souls who are lost, scared, and facing the problems of growing up, every day struggles individuals have, and sometimes even terrible, terrible events that still persist to this day that we as a humans prefer to overlook, or things people feel like they can never talk about.**

**My readers... This story is for you. This is a story meant for you, who have problems, for you who are growing up and trying to learn about yourself, and for you who sometimes wonder if you're better dead or alive. It's for the bisexual who feels pressured to conforming to society's standard of you can only 'love one gender or the other' or to the gay/lesbian who is in the closet and so scared to come out because their world would change. It's for the person who grew up in a not so sound house and can't find the strength to reach out and grasp for help, because they don't want to be the 'fucked up one'. It's for the person who faces 'innocent' racist jokes on the daily basis because of their origins.**

**It is for all of you. Every. Single. One.**

**With that, I welcome you to Dream Catcher.]**


	11. My Name is --

When I thought of my mother, I always saw her different from everyone that I grew up with. She was silk among denim and corduroy. The moment the door of the limousine was opened for me and I saw the giant mansion I thought of her. I thought of how this was the lifestyle she was meant for.

Not me.

Pixis went through the doors that were opened for me. These were servants clad in uniform. Just like out of the movies. When I stared at them they gave pleasant smiles and respectfully lowered their gazes. Their politeness made my skin itch as I wish I had another layer of clothing on.

"Miss Reiss, please follow me,"

"...Reiss..."

"Ah, right, Rod Reiss—he is your biological father. He has taken you in after hearing of your misfortune. He is gone on a business trip and will be here in two to three days. He apologizes for that inconvenience," Pixis relayed.

"...So, my name is Reiss?"

"Correct. Your father hopes to talk to you about that—offer you a change of name, a rebirth from the terrible childhood you had." Pixis gave a smile as if they were talking about the weather.

To be reborn again?

"Oh."

I trailed after him till we came into the main parlor. It was large and luxurious but I could barely see past all the flowers. They were of every hue and in vases of every shape and color.

"Rod Reiss had two children." Pixis was quiet as he faltered, holding the petals of the drooping flower.

Had?

"One of them recently passed away due to a heart condition. Her name was Frieda Reiss. She was twenty when she passed... only a week ago."

It was only when he mentioned that did I find her picture on the piano that was hidden behind a cluster of large flowers. I went over to it and saw her—dark hair and blue eyes just like mine.

"Your father...when he saw a picture of you, he, too, was taken back at how similar you look." Pixis was behind me as I quickly shuffled away from him. He didn't comment on it as he sighed

"I reckon you two would've went hand in hand."

I glanced back at the picture. She had a bright smile, the kind that most likely would've brighten anyone's day. When I glimpsed back at Pixis I saw he was staring long and hard at me. It made my stomach churn and my skin crawl.

"Y-You said...he had two children?" I quickly asked.

"Oh! Yes!" Pixis snapped out of his daze and went to leading me to where ever it was. We went down a hall that lead to a sole bedroom. It was much bigger than my room-

I glanced back to the door knob. I reached out, touching the cold brass, and ran my thumb over the lock. It gave me great comfort to press it in and see the thick bolt come from the socket.

"Armin Reiss. He's the same age as you."

So father had an affair with my mother, or was Armin just like me?

"He's your half-brother and from the same mother as Freida." Pixis filled in as if he knew what I was thinking about. He was beginning to unnerve me with how he'd stare at me one moment and then cover it up with a stupid smile. I knew what he was doing—he was trying to figure me out.

"Wh-Where's the bathroom...? I'd like to take a shower."

"Oh! You have your own personal shower over here. Your closet is right over here. Sadly, it's empty, but your father plans to take you out for clothes tomorrow."

"...but he's at a meeting?" I went over to the bathroom and opened it to find that luxury was not spared here either. It was the size of the living room back at my old home.

"Ah, right, right, when I say take you out, I mean he's provided me with the money necessarily to give you clothes and whatever else you may deem fitting." Pixis said as he stood by the doorway.

I stared at him.

He stared at me.

"AH!" He laughed before turning and walking away.

"Right, right, enjoy your shower! If you ever need me, there is a remote with a pager on your nightstand! Anything you need, really!"

"...Thanks..." I closed the door before he could talk more. This door had a lock, too, as I waited to hear Pixis leave the room. Once he was gone, I peaked out to ensure I was alone. When it was clear I ran to the bedroom door, locked it, and brought a chair to the handle, barricading myself in. I returned to the bathroom and locked that door, too, for safety measure.

I stood and listened.

Not a sound.

No noise from the radio or from grandmother's TV shows. Not even the hush of the wind through the willow or distant mooing of cows.

Just pure silence.  
The stillness was loud in my ears. It left my thoughts room to breathe and whisper things I didn't want to think about. Memories-

I went to the faucet, turning the water on as I stood there, composing myself. The sound of running water soothed me and if I tried I could imagine it as rain, but it didn't last long. It only reminded me of the sounds of home—my real home—and how it was not the same. The rain would speak back at home, it would talk to the willow outside my window, it would hit the old, rusted tin bucket on the ground with loud cracks. This was quiet—this was a refined sound of running water. It had nothing like the rustic charm my home had.

Where was I?

I leaned against the counter, slowly taking my hood off and caught a glance at my reflection. This was me now. I didn't look any different than I did a month ago. It was like everything was the same.

Nothing changed.

I was taken from where I grew up, where I knew people, and I was here now—alone without anyone I knew.

I sighed and ran a hand over my face.

This was what I wanted, right?

To be given a fresh start?

**-x-x-x-**

Hours later, a knock was on the door. The sun had set awhile ago and I took the chair from the door when I was done showering, but I kept it locked.

"Miss Reiss?" It was Pixis.

"Hold on," I went to the door, unlocking it, and allowing him in. I was surprised to see a trolley behind him with a silver platter.

"It was to my understanding that you'd appreciate dinner alone in the comfort of your room?" He asked more than stated.

I was at least grateful enough to nod.

"That's good. The kitchen staff were uncertain as to what your taste palette was like so we went with something basic and general." He uncovered the dish to present my dinner. It looked straight out of a movie as I stared at it, trying to figure out what it was exactly. It was a darker meat—pork? It smelled sweet with its sauce, though.

Pixis said the dishes name. Or I'd assume so because what he spoke was a jumble of words that sounded familiar to Spanish, or... I think?

"Magret de Canard Sauce Cerises," Pixis repeated with a small, amused smile that was barely hidden under his mustache.

"...What is it exactly?" I asked as he set up a makeshift dinner table for me on my coffee table.

"Roasted duck breast with a sun-dried cherry red port wine demi-glace sauce," he said and uncovered another small dish nearby it.

"Soupe à l'Oignon, or, if you prefer, I can fetch you a salad?"

Ok. It was a soup.

I really wish he just said it in a way I could understand.

"French onion soup," he translated, "a simple dish as the name says—onion soup with Swiss cheese."

"And," he brought out an even tinier dish and opened it to reveal something delicious, "something sweet for a beautiful young lady."

It was an apple pie with vanilla ice cream on it. This was something I was familiar with.

"Tarte Tartin a La Mode," Pixis said.

"Apple pie with vanilla ice cream," I gave a ghost of a smile as my stomach growled.

"Oh? Well, yes, I suppose in one way or another, but I'm glad to see you brighten up. If you are still hungry after this I can tell the chef to make another dessert?"

"Ok."

Pixis gave a nod and smile before leaving me alone to the dinner. I was glad he wasn't going to lord over me and remind me how alien this place was. Everything sounded luxurious and that every person was taught how to make it sound even gaudier.

I went to reach down for a spoon for my soup, but found a set of cutlery. There were many forks and knives of different sizes with only two spoons. They were all carefully laid out and I knew that specific ones were used.

Another flashing light that this world wasn't meant for me.

I grabbed a fork and knife, wishing I knew what was what, and began to gingerly cut a piece of duck off. I sniffed at it before I took a nibble, chewing it slowly as my eyes widened—it was delicious! I stabbed another piece with my fork and stuffed it into my mouth, savoring the sweet and tenderness of it.

I didn't get far into it before another knock was at my door and Pixis came in with another trolley. How many did they have?

"Ah, Miss Reiss, you must've been starving if you didn't wait for your tea, or perhaps do you want water?"

I was waiting?

"...I didn't reali-"

"Ah, it's fine, it's perfect!" Pixis shook his head and poured her tea. He saw the cutlery arrangement and then gave me a smile as if I was an oblivious child with good intentions.

"Do you not know table etiquette?"

...No...

I did not. His pleasantries were coming off a lot more passive aggressive to my ignorance than anything.

"You are using the seafood fork," he took it from my hand, "and the salad knife."

He put them back to their respective spots. He then pointed with his gloved hand to the middle knife on the right.

"This is the meat course knife," he informed and then shifted his hand to the left, "this is the meat course fork. They are always placed in the middle. As for the seafood, they are on the outermost, and salad is on the inside."

I took the correct ones, hoping he'd end his speech.

"This one—this spoon, Miss Reiss," he pointed to the little spoon above the dish, "this is for your tea and the fork above it is for your dessert. Now, your soup spoon is this one—yes, very good!"

I couldn't even eat without being told how incapable I was to live here.

Where did I belong if I didn't feel right here, but couldn't live at home?

There was nowhere.

"Oh...Miss Reiss, you look like you're about to cry. Here, take my handkerchief, please, no, you are a beautiful, young lady—do not cry." Pixis frowned as he took out a piece of cloth. He reached out to pat my face dry but I flinched before he could get close.

"...Why, Miss Reiss, I would never hurt you. I am only here to ensure your comfort and safety. Those are my two top priorities. Second is to ensure your wish is my command. Please, allow me to cease your tears."

"P-Please, don't touch me, do-don't." I refused his advance to wipe my tears once again and he stopped. He put the handkerchief down on the bed beside me.

"At least take it and help yourself," his voice was soft and kind as he stared at me. I didn't like him looking at me—I didn't want to be seen—If I was seen then I'd remember what they saw—they'd see me, a girl who was-

"It's fine." I quickly schooled my expression and forced a smile.

"Is it?"

"Yes, it is...I-I just...It's all hard to take in...everything is different than home." Something to throw him from trying to pry further. It was at least a half truth so he couldn't blame me for fully lying.

"Oh... Oh, yes, of course... I'm sorry, Miss Reiss—I must've come off so pompous! We can take your lessons slowly and by the school year it will be as if you were born here!"

"School? Oh...Y-you said Armin was my age, right?" Good. No more about me.

"Ah, yes! Rose Academy! A private institution with high regards. Armin will be attending there, too."

"Oh...where is he now?"

"Oh! Yes, my, I am very, very terribly sorry. I seem to be empty headed lately," he gave an apologetic smile.

"Everything has been so...hard around here... but that is no excuse for my incompetence... But, yes, Armin does not come home from school till late—he has clubs he attends, you see. Even then, he often goes to a friend's house to study or stay with on most nights. Perhaps tomorrow he shall pay you a visit, hm? I think you two would get along quite nicely."

I had to admit that I always thought of a younger sibling. I daydreamed a few times of having one and what it would be like to understand each other through our worst times. To have someone who knew who I really was and still loved me unconditionally. Someone who could share the burden of my mother's hatred.

"...I hope so, too..."

"Of course, I know so! You two are remarkably similar! Now, how about you enjoy your roast duck, tea, and dessert? You ate quite a bit since I was gone, please, do eat up! I will tell the cook to send in more!"

I felt a small smile on my face as I took another bite of the duck with the correct fork. Pixis looked pleased.

"Yes, you two will do nicely."

A younger or older brother?

I suppose it didn't matter. Anyone who I could understand and talk to would be nice.

Maybe this place wasn't too bad.


	12. Who Am I?

**[Curtains by Man Man**

**Fail! by Rainbow Kitten Surprise]**

"Pixis?"

"Yes, Miss Reiss?"

"...This is a lot of clothes...you sure it was ok?" I had expected maybe three outfits, or five if I was lucky, but father had given enough money for fifteen outfits from expensive stores. I was able to buy new undergarments, too, instead of using my mother's hand-me downs which were too big.

"Not really, Miss Reiss, you should see your father's and brother's closets! This is simply bare minimum until you desire to expand on it. Certainly, we can go back if you want? We still have a lot left over."

"O-Oh... No...it's fine... Th-Thank you."

"I am here to please." Pixis justified with a smile to the rear view mirror.

How could people have so many clothes?

I only had three dresses, one pair of shorts, four jeans, two skirts, and only a handful of shirts back at home. Now, I felt like I being excessive.

"Ah! Before I forget, your brother will be home today! Your father called him and told him to make time and meet you! We will be having a late tea. Does that sound grand?"

"Oh, yes... Um, what is he like?"

"You'll have to wait and see!" Pixis optimistically hummed.

I was picking at my dress as I thought over what he'd be like. I was able to see a picture of him—he was just like me with blond hair and blue eyes. He seemed to be a bit effeminate by the way his pictures were done. He didn't look intimidating and that gave me great comfort.

Pixis's phone rang as he plugged in something and put on an ear piece.

"Hello, Mr. Reiss...Ah, yes, I've taken Miss Reiss shopping today...not much, she insists that this is enough... oh, only a couple of outfits, sir... Ah, yes, I did bring her to all the store- oh? Well, that's true... Oh, certainly," Pixis put down his cellphone and did something I couldn't see.

"Hello Krista." I jumped, startled as the voice came from the speakers of the car. His voice was as rich and thick as molasses. A little weary with age, too.

"Mr. Reiss can hear you, Miss Reiss, please, talk to him," Pixis told me as I stared, bewildered.

"H-Hi-" did I call him father? Or did I call him Mr. Reiss, too?

"Oh, don't be frightened, Krista! It's good to finally hear your voice."

What was I supposed to say?

I never thought of my father previously. It was something that others had but I didn't, and that was a very long list of things I worried about, but him being in my life was at the bottom. Until now that is.

"Krista?" He called out.

"I'm here," I quickly spoke up, "um, I-I want to thank you for all this... um..."

"Go ahead, you can call me father- yes, call me whatever you wish."

"Thank you...father." The word felt strange on my tongue.

"What a lovely voice," he hummed with a soft chuckle, "why, have you ever been in choir? I have a lot of appointments set up for us once I am back to find hobbies for you."

"I sang at church." Only twice. Ever.

"Oh, church you say? What one?"

"What one?"

"Religion, which one?"

"Catholic, s-sir."

"Ah, it's ok—just call me father or dad or whatever you prefer. Sir is too formal." His laugh was soft and heavy like he was exhausted.

"Ok. I'm sorry."

"So polite!" He hummed and I didn't know how to respond to that. His tone left nothing to go off of even if he laughed—it was something I couldn't read or define except for blandness. It left me without words to say or a proper hint as to how to react. I fell back into silence and I could hear his light breathing on the phone.

Pixis kept glancing back at me, wondering why I wasn't speaking.

"Hm," father finally broke the awkward silence as if he never noticed it, "have you put thought into your name, Krista?"

"Sir, I've told her a bit about it, but I figured it was a conversation best left face-to-face." Pixis spoke up, helping me.

"Ah, well, Krista, any thoughts? I would find it most appealing if you changed at least your last name. It will ensure a smooth transition, darling."

Darling?

I wasn't sure how I felt about pet names as I glimpsed at Pixis to find a sad expression on his face.

"I-I will do that-"

"Wonderful! Spledid!" My father's voice picked up a faint sense of happiness. Pixis managed to wipe the emotion off his face and smiled at me.

"This gives me great happiness," father's voice did sound like it, "I am very thankful, but I must ask—what about a first name? Krista is a good name, but it lacks... Hm, a refined appeal, don't you think so? It's a name that holds onto your past, isn't that right? Would you want to start anew with a different name, one you wish to be called?"

His voice was patient and kind like how Papa's was when I didn't know what tool to bring him. It was a sound that I had forgotten as the years went, but the warmth it brought me didn't go unnoticed. His consideration was something I savored.

"Maybe... Do you think that'd be good?" I asked to my own surprise. Father was offering me everything I hoped for as a child—a new start. I could leave behind the bullying and abuse if I changed my name. I would be a whole new person.

"It doesn't matter what I care for, Krista. It is your name—something you will live with for the rest of your life. It is your decision. I only have the legal power to ensure it happens."

Kindness and compassion.

Everything I had hoped for in Papa, but had not found.

"Yeah."

"Yes, you want to change your first name, too?" Father asked for clarification.

"Yes...please."

"Then we shall have the paperwork ready when I am home. Put thought into your name, Krista. I understand this is very important to you. I'm eager to hear your decision when I'm home." He hummed.  
I felt myself smile as I stared at my lap, fiddling more with the fringe of my dress.

"Oh, but I ask for one favor in return."

Oh.

I had assumed too-

"Pixis, go by the Apple store—buy a laptop for her. Krista, I want you to purchase clothing or whatever you want online. Sometimes the stores don't have all their products in stock, right? I want you to set up an e-mail, too, so we may stay in contact—Oh! And buy her a phone, Pixis. I can't have her without one."

I felt my cheeks redden.

"Father, I don't-"

"Nonsense! You will have what all the other kids shall have these days! Armin has them and I will be upset if you did not have the same as him! Now, keep your end of the bargain and I will see you in a few days, darling. I must go. Business partner insists I have a few drinks with him. Goodbye for now." With that the call ended and I was left dazzled at how freely he was throwing money around for me. Only a few weeks ago did I ever hear of him.

"We shall make another stop before we head home then, Miss Reiss." Pixis announced.

"Pixis, does Father always...insist on spoiling?"

"Spoiling? Oh, Miss Reiss, this is only the necessities for someone of your age! He is not spoiling you but giving you what he deems vital for you. Trust me, this is very little compared to his definition of 'spoiling'." He chuckled at me.

"It's... My family... Papa and them, they never had a lot of money... I didn't... we couldn't afford much." I didn't want to confess that I was the last priority of the household money. I'm sure he knew because he was the one who helped unload the little I had when I arrived.

"I understand, Miss Reiss. This might seem excessive, yes? Well, I will assure you it is not. Not for your father or the life you will live. Now, don't fret too much about it. Think of how much fun it will be! All the different laptop colors! Phone numbers to add, yes?"

I didn't have friends to add.

In fact, I had entirely forgotten about giving Ilse my old number until now. I had lost my chance to find and reconnect with Ymir, but the pain that resonated in my heart wasn't as heavy. My stomach didn't experience the drop of emotions it usually did when I thought of my missed opportunities with Ymir.  
Things were looking better now—New life, new name, and I was about to purchase things I only ever dreamed of owning. It was too much like a dream, but I knew it wasn't. It no longer was. This was my reality and I didn't hesitate any longer to embrace it.

"No... it's fine... I'd like to leave my old life behind and start fresh."

****

**-x-x-x-**

Pixis had delivered me to my room with my clothes and electronics and promised to be back in an hour or two to set up the luncheon with Armin.

To pass the time, I opened my laptop and began to surf the internet. I went to Youtube and searched up silly things—baby bunnies, Patsy Cline music, and informational videos of fancy dining to refresh my memory. But, that only held my attention span for so long as I redirected to Google, typing in my father's name, Rod Reiss. Several article links came up as I skimmed through all of them, trying to glean information about him. He owned several hospitals and businesses and was regarded as a very successful man. The laptop was a prime example of this.

Then one article caught my eye-Freida Reiss.

I felt myself inwardly cringe that I had almost forgotten about the misfortune of her passing.

I opened it despite feeling like I had no right to and my screen was promptly flooded with pictures of her and a lengthy eulogy.

I read it to the last word. All three pages of it.

She was a charitable woman who somehow managed a life as the heir to the Reiss fortune and company while maintaining a busy yet very popular social life. She supported many events that involved children with disabilities and people who faced tragedy in their life. I found myself at the conclusion that all those flowers in the parlor were an understatement to the love she earned to the thousands who knew her. Freida was like a heroine in my storybooks—righteous, loving, kind, and wise. Just reading about her made my heart ache, wishing I had met her before her passing. But I didn't. I couldn't decide whether I felt jealous of her or mourned for the wonderful person she was. I was stuck between envy and what was right.

I closed my laptop and stood up, deciding I'd figure it out myself.

Somewhere in this house was her room. Maybe if I stepped inside of it I could feel like how a normal person would. Maybe I could muster the sadness like everyone in the household felt instead of this blankness of forced sympathy and sorrow.

Nobody else would feel like this unless they were a terrible person. I didn't want to be terrible. I wanted father to be happy he adopted me. Be the person he was proud of. If I couldn't be that then I didn't deserve his kindness. The first step to earning my place in this household was to correct my feelings about Freida, the person that was most important to everyone. I had to feel sad or at least be wholly sincere to her name. Not a bitter, spoiled child who saw someone with something better.

I slipped out of my room and went venturing down the winding halls. All the doors appeared the same and every single one lead either to a spare bedroom or a recreational room. Some of them were even empty.

How many rooms were there?

Where was Armin's or father's? Most importantly, where was Freida's?

I kept snooping about, opening doors and peering inside.

Nothing.

I went through the main parlor and into the main hall. I took to the west wing and wandered, glancing about. Many pictures were on the walls, showing father and his many achievements over the years. I walked further along until father and his wife began to pop up. Then Freida and her childhood followed by Armin. Before I knew it I was at the end of the hall that lead to a lone door.

I had a gut feeling this was Freida's. My skin prickled as I stared at its knob as a perplexing feeling came over me. I reached out, touching it.

Cold.

I turned it but it didn't budge. I wiggled it and learned it was locked.

Cold and locked up.

"Excuse me?"

I spun around and jumped back, succeeding in slamming my back against the knob and nearly doubling over in pain.

It was Armin, holding a messenger bag and wearing glasses. He was staring at me with stark disapproval.

I didn't know what to say. I was caught exploring in a place I knew I shouldn't have been.

"Are you lost?" He asked, leaning his weight onto one foot and lessening his glare.

"Y-Yes... um, I-is this the tea room?" I feigned.

"No... The tea room is near the back gardens..." Armin didn't look away. I didn't expect him to look so coldly. His expression was unforgiving as my skin began to crawl and I regretted not wearing something that showed less skin. I brought my hands up to my chest, gripping them together in attempt to collect myself, and try to pretend that I was ok with this—a normal person wouldn't tremble at being looked at too long.

Breathe.

One.

Two.

"Come on. Tea should be done," he slightly eased. He jutted his chin to the side, motioning to follow him as he finally turned and released me from his gaze. My body slumped from its frozen state. I shakily exhaled and stared at his back.

Good job.

Perfect first impression.

Just what you needed to show- you're a nosy, insensitive brat.

I trailed a distance behind him. He led us through the maze that was the Reiss mansion till we were in the sun room that hosted a tea corner.

"Ah! Armin, I apologize but I can't find—Oh! Miss Reiss!"

Pixis put a thankful hand on Armin's shoulder but he shrugged it off as he sat down, pulling out his laptop onto the table. I knew Armin didn't see it, pretty sure he didn't care either, but Pixis gave him a very dirty glance before changing his expression into a grin.

"This is Armin, your brother-"

"Hey," he spared me a small smile and then sat back in his chair. His eyes were back on me. I preferred it when he was staring listlessly at his computer.

"Hello," I was able to return the courtesy smile, "my name is Krista."

"I know."

Pixis coughed.

"Miss Krista will be changing her last name to Reiss and her first name when she finds a suitable one." He announced but Armin didn't seem to care too much about it.

"What do you like, Krista? Um...sorry about earlier." He apologized. I was taken back at how fast he jumped into conversation, but it was a lot better than him being distant and rigid.

"I-It's ok... I'm not used to this place and I got lost... But, um, I like playing the piano. I enjoy reading."

"Piano? Did you take lessons?"

Armin's eyes spoke a lot more than his words did. I could almost see his mind race. There were things running through his mind that he did not say. Whether they were good or bad were up for debate.

"M-My g-grandmother taught me, b-but I taught myself, too."

"Oh. What's your favorite piece to perform?"

"Heart and Soul."

He snickered but Pixis gave him a disapproving look.

"That's a pretty simple but pretty piece, isn't it? I can play that, too."

"You do?" I hadn't met anyone else in my town who knew how to play the piano.

"Oh, um, yeah... I-It's one of the first I was given to play." His eyes widened a bit.

"So you like piano, too?"

"Uh, it's ok—I'm more of a computer person. Do you like computers?"

"Um... I only used them in school, really..."

He gave a slight nod and we both were silent, staring at each other.

"So, um, I really like programming and theater, do you like any of that?"

"...I'm sorry but I only saw movies about theater—that's acting and stuff, right?" I didn't know programming so I stuck to theater.

"...Kind of..."

This lunch was going nowhere except to prove how different we were.

Pixis knew it was stumbling so he went to preparing the tea and setting out the pastries. I couldn't help but blame him for making me confident in believing that Armin and I would get along.

"I really like Patsy Cline. Any old music, really," I pursued for the sake of my father and trying to be the best daughter I could be. I honestly did want to get along with Armin. I wanted to have a friend and someone to talk to. I could be there for him if he was upset or needed someone to talk to. Be a good—older or little sister?

"Oh...I know a bit about her... but I really like trance."

"...trance? Isn't that like hypnotizing?" The subject changed so quickly.

"...No...it's music..."

Oh.

Well...

"Here's your tea and some treats," Pixis intervened, giving both of us a break from the strained conversation. I immediately fixated my mouth on a cookie, staring out the window, pretending to be interested in the flowers, but I was starting to feel gross in my stomach. I was attempting to find common ground, but there really was nothing. I wasn't sure if he even felt the same way or not or if he was purposely repelling me. I guess I wouldn't blame him if he didn't want to be close to me. I was a child his father had with another woman. Someone who barged into their home after his older sister passed away.

"I really like Spring... It feels nice." He absently mumbled.

I didn't really like Spring. It meant muddy roads that would inevitably track in dirt. Grandmother would always slap the back of my head and scold me and tell me to clean up the whole house. It meant that sometimes I couldn't run fast enough in the muck from the boys.

"Me too. I love Spring." I replied.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Where I lived, we had horses, and I took care of them. Got to ride around in the fields and by the creek."

His eyes lit up as he gave a warm grin—it was so natural on his face. It fit so perfectly.

"Oh? That sounds nice... I used to go horse riding. Freida, she-" he stopped and the shine was gone once more. Only bitterness came back as he stared into his tea cup.

"We used to go a lot. It was a lot of fun." I could see the sadness there.

The loneliness.

It was all too familiar. His eyes were the same as mine in that I could see his emotions.

I wonder how many times did he cry since Freida's death? Did he ever stare at himself in the mirror only in hopes to acknowledge he was sad, and that despite all that has changed that he remained the same?

It hit too close to home.

"Oh... what if we went, Armin—horseback riding?" It came out faster than I hoped and he stared up at me with surprise, but he shifted his eyes away.

"...Thanks...Maybe sometime." He nodded weakly.

Again, I was insensitive and tried to force myself to fill the sadness. Of course I wasn't enough to help. I wasn't the type of person to help anyone like that.

"I-It's ok—I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

And he didn't deny that. He only sipped his tea, staring out the window, ignoring me.

I shot Pixis a pleading look, hoping he'd know what to say, but even he was staring out at the garden longingly.

It felt like I was a sore reminder of the person who was supposed to be here. I bet they thought I was a shoddy second-hand replacement. That it was a cruel joke that I was brought in after she left as if I was supposed to fill her shoes. They didn't have to say it but I knew it was what they were thinking.

I was a waste here, too, wasn't I?

I found my throat clenching as I wished I knew how I could be accepted. I felt like nowhere would accept me as the person I presented myself as, that I had to constantly change myself to suit what others hoped and wanted to see.

I wish I could be like Freida. I bet she would have known how to make them laugh and smile, how to make friends quickly.

I wish I could be perfect.


	13. My Name is Historia Reiss

Long since the luncheon, when the moon was high in the sky, I still felt it. I still thought it.

I'm not good enough.

That didn't change. Not one bit even though I was a hundred miles away in a mansion, surrounded by all the luxuries that I never thought I'd ever have.

I thought things would feel better… being away…

Armin had blown me off like I was a nuisance. He spared me a smile, said it was nice to meet me, and left, hiding away in his room. He didn't even try to keep a conversation with me. I could see it in his eyes when we spoke, I could see it clearly—the disapproval, the rejection of me as his sister. The idea of having a sibling was ruined. He was the worst. He didn't understand—no.

I was the worst.

Here I was being bitter. Armin didn't have to accept me. After all, our father cheated on his mother with mine, and no doubtingly caused the divorce or something. Maybe their mother died. I don't know.

I'm the worst.

Why did father take me in?

He only knew me for two days but gave me a lot more than my mother or grandparents ever gave.

Why did he do it?

I didn't know his motive. It frightened me. It reminded me of the parking lot with Joel, of Ymir reaching out to me, and my grandfather only staring at me, quiet and never raising his voice. If only father knew how I was—if only he knew how worthless I was then maybe he wouldn't have spent so much on me. He was only wasting his time with whatever he was trying. Armin and Pixis knew. I knew, too, that I wasn't worth it.

I rolled over in bed, staring at the computer screen. My room's lights were on and I was left with another sleepless night, but I had something to occupy myself now.

I propped myself up with the pillows, shoving the thoughts aside to focus on the keyboard. Slowly, I typed what I felt into Google.

'I feel worthless'

I hit the enter button and the results were endless. The top links were articles suggesting therapy or preaching to me how valuable my life was, but I had to ask if it really was. I did nothing but sit and eat and take space. I didn't save lives, I didn't contribute to causes. I had nothing to give to this world—I was told that from the start that all I ever did was cry and take. How could something like that ever deserve to live?

I went past all those. Each single one brought bitterness to my mouth until finally I found something—a blog. I detoured to it and found something strange. It was an image that never struck a chord so strongly in me. It was black with typewriter font—I feel lost inside of myself.

I scrolled.

I can't keep pretending.

No medication can fix what has been broken in me.

They say it gets better but I don't think I will ever see it.

I'm nothing.

Everything I saw—the images, the darkness, and what the person was posting—it were things I felt to the core. I understood it all too clearly.

But it was the comments that caught me off guard.

'Shut up you emo faggot'

'Go kill yourself'

'This generation...boys looking like girls… gross'

I closed the laptop, blinking and rolling to my back.

Once again, reminded I wasn't not right—but that was normal. I knew it long ago that what I felt and who I was were things I had to hide. Pretend that I was smiling and nothing more, but my mask from back home didn't work here. Armin and Pixis didn't approve. I had to find something new—something they all wanted.

  
**-x-x-x-**

When I thought of my father I expected tall and blonde. The parlor didn't have any pictures of him. Only Frieda and Armin. So when I saw a portly man come up the stairs with dark hair and similar blue eyes, I was surprised.

"My darling," he came up to me, giving me a kiss on the cheek. I had to use all my power to not flinch away.

"Ah, you're much more beautiful than the photos!" He grinned, holding me by my shoulders, and intently observing.

"Very beautiful, indeed. Now, come, let's go inside—I'm exhausted, but I want to hear much more about you." Pixis had many of the servants catering to father's every whim and need—one to take his coat, the other to take his shoes off and give him slippers, and so many others racing by to do who knows what.

"Now, tell me," father spoke rather fast but fluidly, leaving little room for input, "what do you enjoy doing?

"Now, now, tell me, what your hobbies are so I can schedule tutors and classes for you."

Tutors? Classes?

"U-uh…I-I like horses…to play the piano and sing…bu—but I—I always wanted to do ballet."

"Ballet?" He was startled for a moment but he gave a nod.

"Of course! Every fine young lady should do ballet—it's perfect for you. Now, the school has tutors for this and—"he went on and on about what things I could expect at Rose Academy and who he knew—Bertolt Hoover, Reiner Braun, Jean Kirstein, and Armin. It seems like the school had a middle school that directly transferred to it and that it was rare for new students.

"You will make good friends there, Kris—Oh! I forgot to ask, I apologize, but have you found a name for yourself, my darling?"

Darling. He used it so freely and I couldn't sense any sarcasm in it, but when I stared at him I had to wonder why he brought me into this household at all. I had nothing to give him. Nothing.

"Yes." I could at least change my name for him. It's not like I didn't want to anyways.

"Oh—Pixis! Retrieve those legal documents for my beloved!"

"Yes, sir."

Father sat down at the sofa. I noticed that even when he laughed or smiled that it wasn't all there. It was only a ghost.

"Tell me, what have you decided?"

"H-Historia."

Father sat back, eyes in surprise.

"Oh, after your great-grandmother?"

"I-If that's ok."

"It's perfectly fine—in fact I am pleased you spent time learning of our family. Did you know she was renowned for her ballet and affinity for horses?" He asked.

I did. I had searched up all the family books Pixis would allow me.

"Y-Yes. I read all about the family."

"What a considerate child! This makes me very happy!" His voice only ever had faint shifts in tone, but I could read his eyes—they were like Papa's in the sense they spoke louder than his words.

"Historia Reiss," he hummed over the name, "yes, a very beautiful name."

From now on, I was directly tied to this family. I would aspire to whatever father would hope of me. I would be what Armin needed in a sibling and do what Pixis thought my father would like best.

I was Historia Reiss—a good girl that did simple things like ballet, piano, and singing. When she could, she would ride horses and read. She would do whatever her family pleased.

Yes, that is who I am.

Historia Reiss.


	14. Crushed Forget-Me-Nots I

**[ Breaking Down the Walls by Nightmare and The Cat  
Goodbye So Many Times by Nightmare and The Cat]**

People often said that spring was a month of rebirth and renewal. Its fruits were the blooming, colorful flowers and return of the birds and promise of new baby goats. Or, at least, that's how it used to be. Now, I saw summer as the season of new beginnings. It was the season where I had shed my old skin and found something comfortable and fitting. Every day was filled with the excitement of something new to learn at my tutoring and class sessions. It went by like a blur until I found myself and Armin being brought to school.

"Excited, Miss Reiss?" Pixis asked, grinning at me through the rear-view mirror.

"Yeah," I returned his sentiment. Armin on the other hand was texting away at the speed of lightning. I could never match his speed even after the whole summer of texting father while he was away.

"And you, Armin?"

"Yeah." Armin held out his cellphone, taking a picture of himself with a stupid grin and then uploading it to who knows what media sites. I always found it strange to take a 'selfie'. It felt vain and in hopes of a compliment. It drew attention.

"Here we are, Rose Academy," the iron gates opened once Pixis held out his ID. There were several cars going in and out and some parking in the student lot. Several students were out, handing out fliers of various activities and clubs.

"I will introduce you to our class—we've been together since kindergarten," Armin mentioned as we came to a stop. He unbuckled and hopped out, adjusting his backpack and waiting for me to follow.

"Armin!"

I had little to no time to see a tall boy run up, grinning, and yanking Armin into a headlock.

"Jean, you ass!" Armin cried out, attempting to pull away but the boy had already done damage. Armin's usually kempt hair was tousled to bed-raggedness.

"How was your summer? Well, no, you post status upd—" the boy named Jean stopped once he saw me. Redness came to his cheeks as he stood a bit straighter.

"I—is this your—who is this?" Jean's voice cracked. Oh, how I loved puberty.

"My sister, Historia," he did not mention half. I glanced at him to see him glaring at Jean. Armin pulled a comb out of his messenger bag, taming the hair back down.

"Sister? Oh!" Jean smiled. He held his hand out to me, eyes softening.

"My name is Jean, Jean Kirstein." He seemed polite enough.

I took his hand, shaking it. However, his hand gripped mine a little too tightly and I pulled away from it.

"Um, Historia Reiss."

"Historia…beautiful name."

"Yeah, it was of my great-grandmother's." Armin snorted, punching Jean in the shoulder.

"Let's go. I want to see how everyone looks—I heard Bertolt shot up even more?" Armin thankfully switched the spotlight off of me. I followed the two as they led me to our homeroom.

"Oh! Yeah! He had a busy summer with his father! I was talking with him and apparently, well, don't tell, alright?" Jean began to spout off some gossip as I brought my attention to the school. Everything looked grand. Even the ceiling wasn't made of that cheap-looking material that was riddled with holes and pencils. Every hall was lined with trophy cases made with probably expensive wood, too.

"Historia!" Armin called to me as I glanced back at him. They had stopped at a doorway. I didn't realize I walked passed the two while I was exploring the place.

"I can show you around after school if you want, but this is our class—oh, are you looking for the bathroom?" Armin asked, leaving Jean behind to come to me.

I shook my head.

"No…It's just a really nice school."

"The best for miles," Armin glanced about but didn't seem as interested as I was with the place. Then again, he was born into a higher society than I was. It was probably normal for him.

"Anyways, come on, I want to introduce you to the class." Armin shrugged, walking back to the classroom. I followed after. Jean clumsily opened the door for me, but Armin slipped in first, snickering at Jean.

"Shut up!"

Armin's little giggle turned into a full laugh.

"Sh-Shut u—Oh, sorry," Jean winced when he realized he was practically shouting into my ear. I spared him a smile and stepped into the room. I was met with a lot of stares. It was a big class.

"It's pretty small," Armin explained, "only fourteen people, but it's nice."

My class back at home was only nine people, but I left that comment to myself. That was something I was learning to forget. This was my life now.

"Hey, Armin," a very tall boy stood. He was tanned and looked very nervous. He came over and I had to crane my neck back to look up at him. In return he lowered his head to look at me.

"Oh God," Jean snickered. Armin joined in.

"It's like a giant meeting a dwarf," Jean laughed more. I shot a glance at Armin and he returned it as if say 'see, I told you he was an asshole'. It wasn't the first time I heard of the infamous Jean and his douchebaggery.

"Did Armin shrink?" A deep voice came from behind. I glanced back and saw a tall boy come by. And, wow, was I really short, or was I surrounded by giants? He had blond hair and defined features, but what I noticed the most was that he was heavily built—not fat but muscular. Especially his arms and barrel chest.

I could only stare in surprise that his school uniform's sleeves weren't ripping. I caught myself after gaping a few seconds and glanced up at his face in embarrassment. His brown eye—Oh.

Oh.

They were such a light brown they could almost be yellow. What a pretty color.

"Whoa." Jean was the first to speak, staring between the two of us. I glimpsed at Bertolt and Armin to see they were staring with interest. I didn't understand until I looked back at the tall blond and saw his cheeks were crimson and his mouth was partly open.

Oh.

Infatuation. He was staring at me with such a smitten look.

"Who is this?" I quickly asked, finding myself uncomfortable with all the attention.

"That's Reiner," the tall, tanned boy said.

"Y-Yeah, my name is Reiner Braun. Um…Who are you?" He asked. He never took his eyes off of me. I shifted my weight onto my other foot, staring down at the ground.

"Historia Reiss. I'm Armin's sister," I introduced myself and glanced back up. Oh no. He was gawking even more.

"I—beautiful name, um, it—it's unique!" Reiner complimented with a crooked smile that kept faltering with hesitation. Armin laughed more and Jean sighed.

"I looked just like that, didn't I?" Jean murmured and running a hand down his face.

"Huh? What? Look like what?" That snapped Reiner out of his trance as he blushed madly, walking over and slapping his hand onto Jean's back, nearly knocking the lanky boy down.

"Augh, knock it off," Jean coughed and brushed off Reiner's hand. The other boy came up, smiling meekly at Reiner. He didn't introduce himself.

"Oh! That's Bertolt!" Armin intervened. He was catching on quickly as if reading my mind.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Bertolt apologized, "my name is Bertolt Hoover."

"Nice to meet you, Historia Reiss," I felt like this wouldn't be the first time I'd have to repeatedly greet others. I could see the rest of the class staring. Reiner was gazing at me again, too.

Soon, a group of girls came up, smiling, and gushing at me.

"Wow, you're so cute and small! How do you stay so skinny?!"

"Do you dye your hair?"

"Oh, wow, you have such nice skin—I'm jealous! Over the summer, I broke out!"

"Ah, sorry," the quiet one, I assume, held out her hand, "I'm Mina Carolina."

"Hitch Dreyse."

"Hannah."

Hitch? I never heard of that name before. Strange. I wonder if it was a nickname.

"So, why haven't I seen you around here before?" Hitch pushed past Hannah and Mina. She leaned down, staring at me with a catty grin. I didn't like how she was blatantly scrutinizing m.

"None of your business." Armin stood next to me with a pleasant smile.  
"Hm. Ok. If that's how it is." Hitch gave Armin an overly innocent grin back, but the girl's eyes had a mischievous glint.

"So, Armin," I brought my gaze to the seats, "where is my seat?"

"I don't know. We have assigned seats. We have to wait till the teacher tells us."

"Hopefully you get to sit by me," Hitch butted in once more. Her eyes were analyzing me and I didn't like it one bit. I could feel her prying into me, but she was not the only one. Everyone else seemed to be as interested. The only thing that kept them from being like Hitch was that they understood social etiquette.

"Hopefully not." Armin rolled his eyes. Hitch hopped next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Is that so, Mr. Diva?" Hitch smirked, shaking him around.

"Watch it." There was a strange expression that ran across Armin's face as he shrugged her off.

"Oh, someone is fies—"

"Hitch," Mina pleaded, grabbing the girl's arm and tugging her away, "come on. Didn't you say that you saw a hot guy at your family's resort?"

"Why, yes, yes I did."

"Thank God." Armin muttered under his breath.

"Huh?" I asked even though I heard him. Maybe he'd expand on the topic.

"She's always getting into other people's business. I don't know, doesn't matter."

"Hey, Historia," Reiner came up next to me, "um, so, what did you do over the summer?"

"Yeah, what did you do?" Jean chimed in. Bertolt shuffled into our little circle to listen as well. I didn't know why they were suddenly so interested in me again.

"Oh, I had fun with my tutors—"

"Oh, ew. Tutors. I fucking hate them." Jean snorted.

"Yeah, that's because your mother hired that one uptight dude, right? The one who believes today's art is trash compared to the renaissance?" Reiner chuckled.

"Don't even get me started on his pompous speeches. I can recite it word for word, I fucking swear." Jean crossed his arms.

"Tutors…what kind?" Bertolt asked, smiling. I was surprised that he was interested to know. I didn't see any redness on his cheeks. It was the first time I didn't feel a guy leering me.

"Piano, singing, and ballet are my favorite." I didn't mention the several others I took for fancy situations.

"Piano and singing?" Reiner asked.

"Y-Yeah."

"Are you any good?" Jean's attention as back on me.

"Jean," Reiner gritted, elbowing him.

"Jesus! Your elbows are fucking bony!" Jean rubbed his ribcage with a grimace.

"I—I don't know if I'm good." I honestly admitted. Father, Armin, and Pixis never heard me. My tutors always gave me constructive criticism to work off of with little positive affirmations. They didn't once yell at me so I had to guess I was ok.

"I bet you are. You have a nice voice." Reiner nodded.

"Dude, you hear yourself? 'You have a nice voice.'" Jean mocked him with a deep, scratchy voice. Reiner ran a hand through his hair, laughing embarrassingly.

It was strange to talk like this. Not once did I feel corned by these guys. The only time I was uncomfortable was with Hitch. They didn't make crude remarks at me or others. Maybe Jean but that was just who he was.

The boys spoke and giggled a lot about simple jokes and of Jean's imitation of his tutor. The fifteen minutes before class sped by until the teacher came in. She was very young, something I didn't expect, and very tall—It only confirmed further that I was extremely short. Why couldn't I grow taller?

"What a day to be alive, class!" She greeted, waltzing to her desk.

"My name is Hanji Zoe! I will be your homeroom teacher! It's with my greatest joy to have you!" She gave the brightest, biggest toothy grin I ever saw. It was like her body couldn't handle her own enthusiasm.

"Now! Roll call!" Hanji took her list, stared at it with pen at the ready. One by one, she called out and each student replied, receiving their seat.

"Historia Reiss! Please take the next seat!" It was right in the front. Not that I minded. I usually sat in the front to avoid spitballs and nasty notes, but, to my left was Hitch.

"Seat besties," Hitch remarked when I took my backpack and sat down. Behind me sat Jean and behind him was Reiner.

However, she stopped reading her list. She glanced around the room.

"Oh, we're missing someone."

"Huh?"

"Another new student?"

The door opened and I felt my heart crush inside of my own chest. My breathing stopped and I saw her.

"Ah, Ymir Langnar. Being tardy on the first day isn't a good way to start the year!" Hanji grinned.

She stood at the front of the room, lazily holding her backpack. She was super tall and her tie was loose. Even part of her shirt wasn't even tucked into her skirt. She looked so…unfazed and bored. The memories of her laughing and running about and smiling hurt. It made my bones ache.

Those were memories—things long gone. Things I left behind.

Gone.

They were gone. It wasn't who I was.

Ymir's eyes scanned the room and I saw her see me and I swear I felt her gaze just break through me and pierce straight into my mind, because the moment she saw me I could see the recognition. It shattered any thought I had. It made me feel things I thought got over—homesickness, watching the sunrise and sunset on the farm hills, the willow tree and its tire swing, the smell of concession food, and of the ferris wheel.

"Why, take a seat! I will allow this one tardy this one time." Hanji hummed, going to the board. Ymir gave a nod, walking over and sitting down at the back of the room on the row right of me. I had to crane my neck to see her back there.

Our eyes met again and it made me flinch and shoot my head forward again.

"Know her, hm?" Hitch asked.

"Hey, Historia, know her?" She asked again, kicking my desk's leg. Jean returned the kick to the back of her seat, making her jolt forward. She shot him a dirty look.

"Now, let's go over the classroom rules! Here, I've printed off—"her words were only echoes in the hollowness of my mind. That was Ymir.

She was Ymir.

Not everyone had the name Ymir. Not everyone had freckles and… I leaned to the side and turned my head back to glance at her again. She relaxing her head on her fist, staring at me, eyes distant—refracting amber smoldering.

Oh.

It was her alright. I shot back down into my seat

"You alright?" I heard Jean whisper to me.

"Is she giving you dirty looks or something?" His whisper was harsher.

Ymir knew who I really was. She knew where I came from.

I was Krista to her and nothing Historia could say or do would change that. She knew the truth. She knew.

I covered my face, running my own hands down it and digging my fingers into my jaw, trying to jolt myself out of the rush of memories that were racing in my head.

I couldn't-

I just—

She knew.

_She knew._

Just once I felt safe in my own skin did the past come back and remind me what I tried to forget.


	15. Crushed Forget-Me-Nots II

**[ Songs of Summer (Feat. Alexander) by Gossling  
U-Dreams by Young Liars]**

Class after class, she followed me into the other rooms. Every time she didn't say a thing, she would only stare out the window or it looked like she was dreaming as she stood. She was listless, quiet, and without remark. The very image of her conflicted with the memories I still begrudgingly held in my heart.

When the doors would open and the hallway became a gaping hole with students flying about like bewildered bats, Ymir would simply walk through the hell and it would part for her. Not once did she offer a smile to me or anyone. She was a walking scowl. Even if that was true, even if she was so different from the Ymir I was friends with, I couldn't keep my eyes off of her. Her long hair had been cut short with no particular style except for the sake of being short—choppy and to her jawline.

I couldn't deny that she was somehow beautiful. Not in the generic way that people often commented on, but the wonderful way she held presence—that she did not fear to hide how she felt. Just staring at her made me feel the somber mantle she wore with pride.

"Historia!" My face was full of hard muscle as I gasped, shooting my gaze up to see Reiner, startled and blushing.

"O-Oh." That was embarrassing. I glanced back to see if Ymir saw but she was already heading to our last class.

"Hey," I felt Reiner pull away, staring down at me with a stupid grin—the quick and toothy kind.

"H-hi." His grin widened even more.

"Say, you keep looking at the new girl—Ymir? Do you know her?"

"What? N-no… um, she looks familiar… b-but…"

"Is she giving you dirty looks?" Reiner asked, smile faltering as his eyebrows furrowed a little.

"No!" I blurted. Why was everyone assuming she was giving me a bad time? It wasn't like she had to smile or exude an aura of approachableness.

"You sure? She's been glaring around all day." Reiner glanced where Ymir was. She was standing near the doorway of the next class, glancing around at the people going by and in the room.

"Why would she do that?" I asked. I wanted to know why he was being so critical of her. She didn't do anything to deserve such suspicion.

"I don't know?" Reiner shrugged before dropping it.

"Anyways, how's school so far? Enjoying it?" He eased, turning towards our last class in homeroom. I decided to stroll by him as it would be the right thing to do.

"It's very big… And all the teachers seem to really care."

"Teachers caring? Well, yeah, teachers are always like that?"

Reiner wouldn't understand teachers looking the other way to constant 'sick days' and family not meeting for parent-teacher conferences. Teachers who knew of the other kids bullying me but saying 'boys would be boys' or 'he just likes her'.

"You like warm people, huh?" Reiner asked. I didn't expect the question but it wasn't surprising. Just common talk.

"I suppose. Why?"

"Well, you noticed how the teachers are—they're caring…so warm, yeah?" He smiled, stuffing his hands in his pockets as we came to the doorway. Ymir was still lingering outside the door, fiddling with what appeared to be her cellphone. Those weren't allowed. I hope she didn't get caught.

"Hey."

I stopped and saw Reiner standing near Ymir. She only glimpsed up before texting away. He frowned when she obviously ignored him.

"Hey, I know it must be stressful being new and all, but cellphones aren't allowed. Best put it away so you don't get it taken," Reiner suggested with a smile. I could feel like he was trying to be friendly, but Jean had used his phone in front of the blond plenty of times and he did not once complain about it.

Ymir kept clacking away.

Reiner didn't move.

"U-Um…" I didn't like the tension that was floating in the air. I wanted to quickly leave but I couldn't. I wanted to hear Ymir's voice and hope that was one thing that hadn't changed. She used to be full of life and warmth.

"Hey, I was trying to be nic—" Ymir put her hand up when Reiner opened his mouth.

"How about this," her voice was sharp and cool, "you keep your nose out of my business, yeah?"  
She was rude, but Reiner was being just as bad.

"Hey, I was trying to help," Reiner gritted.

"Sure." Ymir brushed past Reiner, knocking her shoulder against his. I expected similar treatment but when she went by me she avoided touching me at all.

And I didn't know how I felt about that.

"Jesus Christ," Reiner shot her a dirty look. I watched her slink away. Her form was lithe with an emphasis on her slender legs. Unlike a lot of my classmates, her skin was naturally dark and tanned. The freckles on her face weren't stark but only a few shades darker. It was now that I noticed how out of place she was—the way she walked, talked, and the aloof air she gave was different.

But wasn't I the same? I came here quiet and still felt like a sore thumb. Yet, everyone accepted me right away but they shunned Ymir. Nobody attempted to talk to her but Hitch, who was easily ignored.

Why hadn't everyone gushed over Ymir like they did me? She was a lot more interesting than me.

"I don't know what her problem was—I was trying to be nice, right, Historia?"

"Huh?"

"You saw me, I was trying to look out for her, remind her of the rules so she didn't get in trouble, but she got all mad for no reason. I was trying to be nice." Reiner sighed, staring at Ymir as she sat in the back of the class in her assigned seat.

"Oh, I-I guess."

"Huh. Don't worry about it. She won't get friends that way." Reiner huffed, going into the classroom and I followed. When Reiner sat down, he went to kicking Jean's desk leg with a cheeky grin. The other boy replied with a kick as they giggled and whispered things back and forth. Jean's phone was in plain sight on his desk but Reiner didn't once say anything.

I frowned, watching and waiting for Reiner to remind Jean, but he didn't.

Why did he remind Ymir?

Because she was new and out of place?

I couldn't decide whether or not he was intentionally being rude, or sincerely trying to look out for Ymir despite knowing Jean does the same? Perhaps he tried telling Jean about it but the rebellious boy ignored his suggestion.

"Hey, teacher's coming," Reiner kicked Jean's seat and the boy scrambled to hide his phone in his pocket. Hanji didn't seem to notice as she waltzed in.

Or did he feel like they were above the rules and Ymir wasn't?

**-x-x-x-**

Outside, chauffeurs and their respective students left one by one. Those who were going to join a club stayed behind for the meetings. Armin was one of them—choosing theatre. I thought he would've went for computer programming.

By twenty minutes, most of all the kids had left, leaving only a few. Out of those few were me and Ymir. We stood not too far from each other at the front of the school, waiting for our rides.

Nobody else was nearby that I knew. It was me and her…only us. Slowly, I scooted closer, trying to think of what to say, but what could I say? Oh, hey, I remember you from years ago and I still think of you as my only friend I ever had?

No pressure. No pressure at all.

"H-Hey," I spoke up, voice cracking.

Ymir was texting but she immediately put her phone down, glancing over at me. Her eyes sized me up and she put her phone back into her pocket.

"Yeah?"

"U—Um, your name is Ymir, right?"

"And your name is Historia."

"Y-Yeah…I—I have a feeling we met,"

"Do you? Where at?"

Oh. She wasn't making this any easier. I couldn't read her eyes at all—I didn't know whether she was teasing me or genuinely confused.

"I—At a county fair…a couple years back…we went on the Ferris wheel together." I was afraid to say any more than that. What if she didn't remember it as vividly as me? I didn't want to be the loser who was clinging to childish things.

"Historia, right?"

"…Yeah…"

"Nah. You got the wrong person." Ymir brought her phone back up, bored with our conversation.

So she didn't remember, or she didn't recognize me as who I was now—Historia Reiss. Would she have known if I said I was Krista instead?

Was it worth it to tell her?

I had given up my old life for this new one. At one point in the past, I considered her my only friend. I had for years, hoping that she'd come back or reappear and defend me from my problems like she did to those boys. That she kept her promise, something she willingly wanted to share with me when nobody wanted to spend their time and sincerity on. Yeah. Long ago, I thought of her as someone I could always depend on.

Now with her snarky and rude personality, and blatant disregard for rules or others?

Was our old friendship worth that much still?

It's time to grow up.

This was the moment to show myself I truly did leave everything behind. If I did, I could fully grasp the opportunity of being Historia Reiss. I could let go of everything if I could let go of Ymir.

"Hey."

I was surprised she kept talking. I looked up and over at her. She frowned when she saw my astonishment.

Did she finally realize who I was?

"Your shoes are untied."

I shot a look downward and she was correct—they were a mess and jumble of laces.

"O-Oh, thank you."

I quickly bent down, tying away at them, glad I didn't trip over them.

"You're a klutz, huh?"

"Wh-What?" I stopped, taken back at the impolite remark, but a honk interrupted her response.

"That's my ride." Ymir left without a goodbye, hopping into the car and she was gone before I could stand back up. I watched the car pull out of the school's parking lot and disappear beyond the gates.

A parting without a goodbye. Nostalgically familiar.

A deep disappointment resonated within me that she didn't recognize me. I often fancied how we'd meet again—maybe tears and laughter or she'd hug me and tell me all of her accomplishments since then, or maybe we'd bump into each other and awkwardly laugh. I thought I wasn't expecting much with the scenarios that I daydreamed of. I thought of them modest. But this meeting brought me back to reality into realizing that not everything was a spectacle.

I should've known that people come and go. I never should have thought Ymir was above being a person. She was very human, and like all people I met, they'd eventually leave me behind. I should have been used to that.

And my heart throbbed painfully so at the thought.

 

**[Ever lose yourself to the romantic notion of thoughts you yearn for? Think it will be extravagant? Maybe even plan out a passionate discussion in the shower and once the time comes you realized you over-thought it, or maybe it was far more casual than you hoped, and you are left with a short-reply that cuts the burning wick far too soon? Then, you are left with an extinguished candle with nothing but the darkness of your deepest insecurities and over-extending emotions.]**


	16. Crushed Forget-Me-Nots III

**[I Want To Be Buried In Your Backyard by Nightmare of You  
Chloroform by Phoenix]**

"She didn't know me," those words kept haunting my lips as I went about the mansion—piano practice, reading, dinner, and then my room.

I couldn't escape the thought.

It shouldn't be like this.

I slipped off the house slippers and put my feet back down onto the cool marble. It was soothing to know that at least father's money couldn't buy all the comfort in the world. It brought memories of home as I wandered to sit at the edge of my bed. I could only bring myself to staring at the wall—everything else felt like a chore. Even my limbs were heavy.

It was just a memory.

Something I willingly gave up, but my heart just kept aching at knowing she forgot when I could vividly remember it. How could she forget—did she always just make promises and break them?

We were children.

It was so long ago.

Was I looking too deeply into what she said?

Be happy.

Be happy?

Ymir didn't look happy at all. Not one bit.

"She broke her promise."

The words that stole the world from under my feet, how her eyes flipped me over and onto my back, breathless. She simply stole the world's stage in my eyes because she was happy, she fought those who threatened her, and she spoke so confidently. Not everyone was like that.

I thought she'd at least remember.

Useless. I felt my hand move from the bed to my thigh. It slipped under my dress and latched onto my thigh. My nails dug into the skin there, pinching and scratching along the skin.

Did she ever think back on that—did she ever realize how enchanted I was with who she was?

Stupid. My nails jabbed further in, sinking into my skin till I could feel it there—that pain that made me almost stop thinking, but it wasn't enough. I had held her so high, I realized, higher than anything I had.

And for what? Because she protected me when nobody else did? That she apologized when she hurt me? She had done so much I wished people did for me, but this wasn't her anymore. The Ymir I knew was gone.

"She didn't know me."

I had changed.

Those memories were dead, dead, dead. Gone. I closed my eyes and counted to ten under my breath and forced my mind to go blank. Whatever feelings Ymir sparked weren't worth thinking of if she didn't acknowledge me.

Yeah. My nails went to a different part on my thigh, digging in, and that was enough to jolt me.

I no longer needed her to protect or help me, because I was taking life by the reigns and doing what I wanted—to be perfect for my family and those who needed me. I wanted to help anyone I could and be the person everyone looked at with respect and love. That was my goal. That was who I was supposed to be.

I found what I needed as I pulled my fingers away and felt the stinging air hit the scrapes.

Ymir didn't belong in in my life. Her purpose for me was gone.

So I only had to throw her away.

The bitter taste in my mouth lessened the more I thought of the others I met—Jean, Reiner, Bertolt, Mina, and them. They were nice. Hitch was someone I didn't really like but she seemed ok if Mina and Hannah didn't mind her. When we got back home Armin teased a little about Reiner having a crush. When I thought of him it wasn't bad—he was nice. Or, at least, somewhat. He didn't hurt me but he didn't seem to like Ymir and—well, I failed. I thought of her again.

I sighed out loud, falling backwards onto my bed and resting my eyes.

I was thinking of Reiner…not Ymir.

Reiner was nice to me. He seemed to be popular and wasn't arrogant about it. A strong guy. He was built like an ox. He had sort of nice eyes.

You should give him your number. That's what Armin said, smiling.

If I had learned anything of Armin it was that he was picky about people. He liked talking to all sorts but he didn't let anyone closer than he preferred. Reiner seemed to be the exception with a select few. However, I understood what it would mean if I did give him my number. It'd mean I was interested more than that.

To be honest, I sort of was—Reiner seemed ok. He could probably be a good friend. So would Bertolt and Jean.

My hand was covering the raw indents on my thigh, brushing over it and feeling it burn in response. The pain was familiar, something to think about, something to distract from more painful gateways.

In a way, Reiner reminded me of Joel—a little rough but a little similar of a build.

I wonder what people thought back home.

Who fed Jake in the morning?

How was Joel?

Papa?

Did they ever think of me?

I felt my nails jab back into my skin as I gritted my teeth.

If I was so happy here, why was I thinking of home and all the things I didn't want? It was bad back home. Abusive. That's why the cops had said. It was what Pixis and my father said. It was a place 'no child should have been'.

If that was true, why did I have fond memories? They fit so neatly between the cracks of all the bad things. It felt stupid but was it really all that bad? I doubt I'd know but I wish I'd just drop it and stop thinking.

Stop thinking.

I brought my hands to my face, dragging my nails down it until it reminded me of what my mother would do. That feeling was there again—the blankness and my body going numb.

There.

Nothing.

I didn't have to think about it anymore.

Sleep came easy.

**-x-x-x-**

"What?"

"…I-I didn't know I was supposed to." I frowned, staring at Armin who was displeased.

"Everyone joins a club! I like theatre! You can make friends that way—I mean, sure, not everyone likes vintage, but there are quite a few! Try out the Ballet club? Or piano—wait, no! Join theatre with me! Do it!" Armin suggest, grinning.

"I don't know if I'd be good." I lied. Acting was fooling another person into believing what you felt.

The summer hadn't brought us close in the sense I could tell him what was on my mind, but that we enjoyed each other if we ended up in the same room.

"Really? I think you would be. You're pretty and have a soft voice and you can sing," Armin listed off on his fingers to prove. I gave him a nervous laugh.

"Maybe."

"At least think about it!" Armin smiled, tugging me along the halls and towards the recreational part of the academy where clubs were held. He brought me to a large board that held an assortment of fliers. He plucked a few and stuffed them into my hands.

"Look at them, ok?" Armin said before shuffling down the hall.

"I have to go but I will see you after school! Narrow down what you want, ok?" He waved and left to who knows where, leaving me alone and sort of lost. I hadn't gotten the chance to wander down here on the first day. I glanced at the walls, searching until I found the clock and saw I had twenty minutes to spare.

I was going to go further down the hall but I saw two figures come out of a doorway. They were really tall and—

"Does it matter if they know?" Ymir asked, glancing up at Bertolt. The taller boy was sweating profusely and almost glaring at the freckled girl. He opened his mouth and sputtered and she cackled at his expense.

"You know what, I don't really care. It isn't important to me." Ymir waved him off but Bertolt froze up, cheeks reddening.

"It's important to me!" He said, voice cracking a little from puberty. Ymir laughed all over again.

Her laughter was something familiar to me. It made my head ache and ears burn. It was Ymir—the Ymir that was my friend.

"Well, if it is, do you want them to know or not? You're the one making a big deal over something like this. People understand that sometimes hormones get the best—"

"Shut up! I don't want to hear it!" Bertolt seethed and stomped away. Ymir stood at the door, facing away from me, and called out.

"You didn't answer me!" She snickered.

"NO!" He roared. Ymir kept laughing till he disappeared around the corner. She turned my way and I saw she had some sweat on her face and her cheeks were red. My heart plummeted.

Why were they in the room alone doing tha—

"Historia," I shot a look behind me to see Reiner coming up the hall, frowning, "is Bert up that way?"

I quickly looked back to see Ymir staring at me, glaring. I obviously had witnessed something I shouldn't had. Before Reiner could reach me Ymir quickly closed the distance between us. She smelled… not like what I expected. It was faint and something sweet. Now that I saw her hands they were stained red and purple. Her tongue was that way, too.

"I don't know what you heard, Historia," Ymir muttered as she glowered down at me, "but I'd like it to remain a secret. You hear?"

I was shocked.

Was she threatening me?

"Wh-What?"

"I said, can you keep what you saw to yourself, or am I going to have to do something about it, huh, Historia?" She repeated slowly with heavy words.

"Historia! Oh—hey…um, what was your name?" Reiner came from behind, standing by my side and staring at Ymir with a quizzical look.

"Doesn't matter." Ymir shrugged, ready to leave.

"Hey." Reiner huffed.

"What?" Ymir turned towards him, unamused.

"You got some stuff all over your fingers." He nodded. Ymir's eyes widened a little and she looked down at her dyed finger tips.

"Hah, oh yeah," she laughed and then popped her fingers into her mouth, trying to lick them clean, but it wasn't working. Reiner's frown deepened at the rude behavior.

"Ymir," I picked up my voice.

"Huh?" She stopped and glanced at me.

"I—I wanted to apologize for mistaking you for someone else I thought I knew." I felt my fingers dig into the fabric of my skirt, clawing over the sensitive, raw skin from last night.

"…Uh, ok." Ymir replied as if I said something very awkward.

"I…it's not a problem?" She gave a little laugh before waving me off.

"Hey," Reiner took a step forward, "I don't know where you came from—"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ymir shot back.

"—but Historia gave you an apology for something and you should properly excuse it!" I could practically feel him bristle beside me.

"I did! I said it was not a problem!" Ymir took up his challenge, taking a step at him.

"No! You said it with a condescending tone!" He spat.

"Condescending? No, this is my condescending tone—oh, look at me, I am a privileged, gorilla white fuck boy!" Ymir glared.

My eyes were wide and I had to take a few steps back. The atmosphere was making me uncomfortable. It was thick like the air before a storm.

"Y—What!? You think I am being racist!? No! I am getting after you for being a bitch! Don't go playing the race card on me!" Reiner growled.

"Fuck you!"

"No! FUCK YOU!"

"S-Stop." My voice was weak. The hallway was empty before but not Hitch and Bertolt were at the other end of it, behind Ymir. I glanced back and saw Mina and Hannah, staring, wide eyed. When I glanced back Ymir had her eyes on me but they were soft. Her mouth was shut but Reiner didn't seem to hear.

"I don't know who the fuck you think you are but you can't just come in here and act like you're better than everyone! You are nobody here! You are lucky Bertolt's dad took you in from who knows what little, shit town you came from! You have a bad attitude and Historia deserves respect! Not the shit you give!"

"REINER!" Bertolt cried out.

"Wha—Oh! Bert, I'm sorry! I forgot that I wasn't suppo—fuck! Just you know what, nobody will be your friend if you keep acting like a dick!" Reiner concluded and ran after Bertolt who was walking away, angry.

That left Ymir and I staring at each other. Everyone had their eyes on us, the remnants of the drama that spewed.

"Did I scare you?" Ymir asked, shoulders slumping.

Yes. Yes, you did.

"I'm a pretty shitty person, aren't I?" She laughed and it was full—a real laugh. It scared me, too, because how could she laugh at such a terrible thing?

"I'm sorry, Historia." She ruffled her short hair, smiling something stupid, and then went to walk away but I had enough courage to ask what was bothering me.

"Ymir…you keep saying Historia…"

"That's your name, isn't it? Should I not say it?"

"I—yes but—you… Ymir…"

"And you keep saying my name." She wasn't responding at all like I was hoping she would. I knew she was the same Ymir as before. She stopped when I said stop. She heard me over her own desire to fight—she heard me.

"I-I-I'm sorry."

"Nah. It's good." Ymir shrugged but she didn't move. It was like she knew I was struggling with my words.

Are you happy?

Don't you remember our promise?

How could you forget me?

I want to be friends.

Please, try to remember.

"Wh-what's that on your hands?" I asked. Ymir seemed to be taken off guard before smiling.

"Huckleberries."

"A-Are they good?"

"Yeah, very fucking good." She grinned before wiping her hand on her skirt and turning to walk away.

Again, she left me alone. She didn't respond with anything that gave me the opportunity to get closer. She should have asked did I want some or asked if I ever heard of them. She should have opened up to let me talk with her, but she left me behind. I couldn't stand that she was purposely pushing me away—I knew she knew!

Why wasn't she remembering me?

But Ymir couldn't read minds. She kept walking, oblivious that she kept reopening old wounds. And every time I'd stitch myself back together to only set myself up for failure again.

I thought I was giving up.

Ymir would have remembered me if I was good enough.

She's embarrassed to be near me.

I'm stupid.

I'm useless.

I am a mistake.


	17. Crushed Forget-Me-Nots IV

**[ Mississippi by The Griswolds**

**Entombed by Deftones]**

I was beginning to get a grasp of my way around here. The main hallway lead to the foyer where the offices were, and where the entrance and exit to the pick-up area. The hall led to a main, giant room where Armin said they held dances and such. The giant, circular room had four halls leading to each direction—North, East, South, and West. The southern led to the foyer and the North led to the club rooms, gym, and typically any classes that were creative—Gardening (or was it herblore?), art, and dance. The East and West wings I had yet to figure out.

"Armin?" I tucked my bangs behind my ear. It was after school and the AC had been turned off in most of the halls and the late summer heat had begun to waft in.

"Yeah?" He was fanning his face, too, as we walked through the large room and going to the North hall.

"What're huckleberries like?" I asked. It was a lot easier to focus on what Ymir said than what she didn't. I had shoved all my feelings to the tiniest corner in my mind, trying to pretend it wasn't true, but I knew those thoughts would intrude once more. I just needed them forgotten long enough for the school day.

"…Wait, Bertolt had huckleberries today. I saw it on his tongue this morning." Armin smiled, pointing to his mouth.

"Did he tell you about it?"

"…About what?" So him and Ymir ate huckleberries. Together. In a room. Sweating early morning.

"The huckleberries and Ymir, the new girl, the one you keep staring at." Armin clarified.

"Oh…no… I—"

"Yeah, I heard from Jean who was told by Reiner that you saw Bertolt and Ymir fighting. Seems he couldn't keep that secret, so," Armin leaned in, grinning mischievously. It was only during school did I realize how much of a gossiper he was. It hadn't even been a week and I felt like I knew the dirtiest secrets of everyone already. It made me wonder if Armin knew my secrets, too, and if he'd tell everyone if I told him some.

But Armin stopped grinning before turning red.

"O—Um, I don't know if I should tell you now that I think about it."

"…Um, what is it?"

"…Well, it just might make you uncomfortable." Armin explained, looking away embarrassed as if I called him out on something. Though, him not saying anything was making me paranoid.

"Ymir is Bertolt's half-sister… from what Bertolt told Reiner, his father had left the house when Bert's mom wanted to divorce him. He was gone for two years—going around and doing free health-clinics and Red Cross work. Don't blame him…Bert's mom can get pretty, um, difficult. By the time Bert's dad got back, his mom decided to be with him again… Bert's dad thought it was over while he was gone for two years because he signed the papers…and, well, it kind of… his dad sort of did—hey, are you ok?" Armin stopped.

My stomach felt wound up tight like a rope. Every time I tried to breathe it felt like someone tugged downward on that rope, ringing the bell of my mind loudly like a funeral toll.

"…w-w-what happened?"

"No, no, no, I'm done talking about it… it's obviously making—"

"No. Tell me what happened." My voice was stern. Something I didn't mean to show but it happened. Armin only gave an uncertain nod.

"…Bert's dad…had met someone. Well, not someone, but he… he messed around with another woman, but he thought he was divorced now! You know, he didn't mean to… have an affair… but it didn't last. He left the woman a few months later and then a year or so he came back to find Bert's mom, you know, had Bertolt, and that she wanted to stay. Bert's dad was happy and he stopped travelling and they thought that was that… but the other woman had a child…Ymir…and, well, they didn't know till this spring and now…she's…here, too, and Bert's mom… had divorced his father and left. Without Bert."

It was silent for a while as we kept walking past club rooms. I could hear people inside each one laughing and going over material.

"…Historia, I shouldn't have told you and—"

"No. I asked to know."

"…You can go home if you want, Historia… I—I shouldn't have said anything, honestly, I wasn't thinking and it was… it was inconsiderate of me and I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable…"

"It didn't make me uncomfortable?" I turned towards him, staring blankly as if I was caught off guard at his assumptions. We both stopped walking and he stared at my face. I could feel him probing for anything that'd give away what I was feeling.

I smiled at him.

"See? Nothing wrong."

Armin kept examining me but I held strong. What I felt wasn't for him to figure out unless I told him. What was on the inside was mine alone. Years of hiding my fear had led to hiding things that I knew my mom would hurt me over—my interests and dreams. It was all locked safely deep in me.

"…Alright…" Armin relented but he didn't look convinced. We only took a few more steps down the hall till he stopped and nodded towards the door.

"I think you'd do good in theatre." Armin murmured. I only shot him a glance in the corner of my eye, fully aware of the double meaning. However, I didn't appreciate the compliment.

"Historia! You decided to join!" Hitch's voice was the first to hit me. Another probing person.

But I was relieved to see Jean, Reiner, and even Bertolt there.

"Historia," Reiner grinned, getting up and offering his seat as there weren't enough for everyone. I sat down with a smile, pushing away the discomfort Armin gave me.

"…I didn't know you were in theatre." I looked between Jean, Reiner, and Bertolt. , I was surprised the other boys were here. They didn't seem like the type to do theatre.

"I thought I'd give it a try," Reiner shrugged. Bertolt only gave a shy smile.

"Yeah, Armin only blackmailed us into it," Jean rolled his eyes, receiving a bony elbow from the blond.

"Jesus, fuck, your elbows are like damn knives," Jean grimaced, glaring at Armin.

"I want to know what our first play is going to be!" Armin grinned, excited.

Everyone looked blankly at him.

"…Alright, our first objective is to figure out our first play. We need to get it ready by homecoming!"

"So soon?" Hitch asked, frowning.

"That sounds like so much work." Jean frowned.

But their bickering didn't reach me. My eyes kept glancing to Bertolt's fingertips—they were still dyed a little purple and red.

**-x-x-x-**

Outside was heavy. The heat felt like a fur coat around my whole body. Armin had decided to leave with Reiner, Bertolt, and Jean. Hitch was waiting for Mina from swim club. That left me alone outside, wishing I had just left with the boys to get out of the heat.

I pushed my bangs out of my face for the tenth time, feeling them matting to my forehead. It was nearly a hundred or was. I don't know.

I sighed, grabbing my satchel, and digging through it till I found a rubber band. I put it on my wrist as I quickly went to tying my hair up and off of my neck. I could feel the air hit my damp neck, but it was only momentarily till the sun was beating down on it again.

"Hot?"

I glanced back, finishing the ponytail as Ymir strolled up. Her face was extremely sweaty. She had a duffel bag with her school backpack.

"…Yeah."

Her fingertips were even more purple and red this time. She seemed to notice.

"I really like huckleberries." I looked up to see her grinning.

"Have you ever had any?" She asked, putting her duffle bag down, and searching in it. I could see a different set of clothes before she pulled out a container. It had a lot of watery juice in it with little purple berries.

"Oh… well, they were frozen, but," she shook the contained a bit, making the liquids slosh.

"It is hot," I was able to smile a bit. Her eyes lit up and she grinned.

"Haha, yeah, yeah, I know, jerk," Ymir shook her head and went to opening the container. She took a pinch full of the berries and ate it. I could see her eyes close and she hummed in the way you knew whatever they were having was heaven.

"They're so good." She groaned.

My smile widened just a little before I looked away, staring at the iron gates in the distance, waiting for Pixis.

"Hey," she tore my attention back to her, "aren't you going to ask to have some?"

"H-huh?" Was I supposed to?

"Here, I will do it for you. Try some," Ymir walked a bit closer and lowered the container for me to get a better look. There weren't too much left, but there were some in the corners.

"Ah…but…they're messy?" I glimpsed up before eyeing the berries.

"Oh? Oh, yeah, you can see that," she wiggled her fingers that were holding the container. This time I couldn't help from smiling wide. This was Ymir. That was the Ymir I knew.

"Ok." I knew if the berries dyed Ymir's fingers the whole day that if one drop got on my uniform it'd be a pain, but I had to know if huckleberries were good or not. I took a couple, accidentally dipping my hands in the juices, and seeing my fingertips covered in wine colors. I could see Ymir's grin as I held the berries before me, trying to ensure I didn't make a mess as I popped them into my mouth.

Slowly, I chewed, feeling the berries gush. They were a little tart at first but eased into a very sweet taste.

They were my favorite right away.

"So? Come on, how was it?" Ymir asked as I stood there, licking my lips.

"They were really good."

"I knew it." She smirked, pulling the container away, close it, and stowing it back into her duffle bag.

"Oh, you got some on your hands. Here," Ymir was retrieving a cloth from her backpack till I licked the juices off from my fingers. Just like how Ymir did. The remainder was very sweet without any sourness.

"Or that…" she muttered, surprised.

I was savoring the taste on one finger when I turned to her, smiling, and taking the handkerchief to wipe my fingers off regardless. She simply watched as if contemplating what to say. I gave her back her cloth.

"Thank you."

"Oh, yeah… no problem."

Again, it was quiet. Both of us facing towards the gate, staring at the round-a-bout fountain.

"Man…I'd totally swim in that." Ymir whispered to me. I glanced over, watching her itch the back of her leg with her sneakers, and gazing longingly at the fountain. I knew what she meant. I had missed being able to sneak away from the farm and run down to the creek and play in it. I'd always bring my horse, Jake, with me and let him walk and drink from it as we cooled off.

"Yeah."

"Do you want to?"

"What?!" I turned towards her, seeing her put her backpack down.

"I asked if you want to swim with me," Ymir was already walking across the road to the fountain. I stared at her in shock.

Would she really jump in it?

It was a fountain. People would think lowly of her if she did it, but the way she glanced at me told me she could really care less.

"C'mon, Historia. Let's go," she called out and it plunged me deep into the memory I held so dear. I saw her, toothless wonder, holding hotdogs, and encouraging her to come with them to find her grandfather.

"Y-Ymir, it's a fountain!" I reminded her. Ymir had finally touched the fountain, taking her shoes off, but her eyes were still on me.

"Yes! A very sexy fountain! One that I must swim in! Come on!" She laughed.

The road was the only thing between us. It was where I'd be picked up, brought to the lifestyle I was luckily given, to the life I promised myself was mine only and that Ymir was more trouble than she was worth.

"W-wait!" I put my satchel down near her stuff, running across the road. Ymir just kept laughing and laughing as if it was the funniest thing she saw—two girls from rich families about to swim in a fountain like hobos.

"The great Historia Reiss to bathe like a street urchin, oh no," Ymir deepened her voice, mimicking a charismatic one on movies.

I shook my head, taking my shoes off, too, but Ymir had yet to get in. Instead, she gave me a brief smirk.

"Ymir, what—" a blast of water hit my face and I shrieked. I didn't expect-

"HAHAHA!" Ymir howled as she shook, holding her sides.

"Y-Y-Y—"

"Hahaha! Oh my God!"

"You splashed me!" It cold was cold as hell and my white blouse was showing my bra underneath. It felt gross but I laughed, too, because her mirth was mine.

So was her wickedness.

As her mouth was wide open, I used my hand to splash her, making her choke on her own laughter as water sputtered and gurgled in her mouth. This time I was holding my sides, laughing at her.

"Krista, you little shit—"

"Lady Reiss!" I didn't realize Pixis was parked off to the side, staring at me in surprise.

"Lady Reiss, the fountain is not meant for those purposes! Ah! Your blouse! Hold on, let me get you an emergency towel," he quickly got outside of the car, going to the trunk and pulling out a towel, but I felt vulnerable for other reasons.

She had said Krista.

She knew.

Refracting amber were wide in realization of what she said. She promptly looked away when she saw that I understood it, too. She began to put on her shoes as Pixis took mine, ushering me into the car.

"Miss Reiss, I know it is hot but that is against school regulations and it is a fountain! It is unsanitary!"

"Ymir," I felt my eyebrows furrow together.

She lied to me.

She knew who I was!

Ymir glanced up, nervous.

"Wh-Why'd you call me Krista?"

Pixis stopped short. Staring up at me and then at Ymir before going back to opening the door and hurrying me inside.

"We must go home and get you out of those clothes, Miss Reiss. Perhaps the heat caused your misguided judgement!" Pixis tried to soothe what he thought was my embarrassment, but it was my confusion and hurt.

Ymir knew!

Why was she being this way?

"Ymir!"

The taller girl stood up, shoes back on, and her own white shirt sticking to her skin, see-through.

"I'm sorry." Ymir apologized.

Why was she sorry?

"Why?" I asked as Pixis was in the driver's seat, waiting, staring back at me. He at least had the politeness to halt until the conversation was over.

This time Ymir looked angry. She glared at me.

"Didn't you want to be called Historia? Not Krista? Why are you acting like I did something wrong?"

"Y-You didn't do anything wrong… I—"

Ymir shrugged me off, walking across the road back to where we were waiting before.

"What a rude individual." Pixis commented before glancing back.

"I'm ready to go home, Pixis."

"…Yes, Miss Reiss."

As we drove away I couldn't help but glance back. I saw Ymir staring.

And then I saw her outstretched hand.

Just like when the white flaps of the police kiosk sealed our fate, the iron gates of the academy closed shut between us.


	18. Lost Hydrangea

**[ Sisters (feat. Northern Voice) by A Tribe Called Red  
Pink Rabbits by The National] **

The woman was a real bitch.

When Ymir returned 'home' she already heard Baldur attempting to calm and soothe his angered and raging wife on the phone. She could only roll her eyes as she shifted her backpack and walked past the living room and up the stairs to her bedroom.

Her 'home' was still foreign to her. Too clean, too quiet (most of the time), and…normal. It was the photogenic sibling of Home and Garden magazines. In fact, it was a _perfect_ house with a stone fence, resting on the _perfect_ and _rich_ and _prestigious_ South Hill of Trost. It was _grossly perfect_ in fact.

But despite all its perfection, its epitome of success and richness, the family life was shot.

_All because of what? Baldur wasn't informed of his wife constantly changing her mind?_

Ymir slipped into her room, closed the door, locked it, and swung her backpack to the corner of her room, ignoring the homework. She sat her duffel bag down and fell onto her bed beside it. She stared up at the ceiling that was clad with glow-in-the-dark stars. Some of them were signed— Sasha, Ilse, Connie, Mom, Dad, Grandma, and then there was Marco, right above her pillow.

Ymir sighed, closing her eyes and rolled over to her bag, retrieving her iPod. It had enough charge for another hour. She plugged herself in and the piercing silence was replaced with music—some top 100 billboard crap.

Ymir opened her eyes to only peek at the name—Paper planes by M. I. A.

"Oh," Ymir laughed under her breath as she rapped with the singer, but her mind was elsewhere.

She thought of a grey room, eyes closed, hearing the radio far down the corridor playing the song, and the others singing and laughing.

"Bang, bang, bang," Ymir put her finger gun to her head, pretending to shoot herself, but she stopped—her smile falling as she rolled over, changing the song.

A mix of dubstep came on and her feet began to itch. She couldn't stay still as she hopped up and unlocked her door and strolled past. She didn't know whether her father was still fighting. Hell, she wouldn't know if the house was on fire because her volume was all the way up on her ear buds. She saw Bertolt come up the stairs, face sour. When he noticed her too his face went darker but she didn't care. She got on the rail of the stairs and slid all the way down, past him, and landed at the bottom. Whether he yelled at her for doing it like the other times she didn't know.

Ymir glanced into the kitchen and saw Baldur wasn't there.

Probably in the study.

Ymir went down the hallway a short distance and went to the door under the staircase that led downstairs. She descended and took a left into a room—sound proof walls with a nice speaker system and a mirror that covered one whole wall.

Ymir began to dance as she went to the stereo, tugging the earbuds off and throwing them to the corner of the room. The iPod's shitty speaker blared as she hastily hooked it up to the stereo's dock. A second of silence before the room blared and vibrated with bass.

Her whole world was consumed in noise—something that shook her to the core. The beat was like a second heart beat as she closed her eyes, rolling her head back with a slow smile.

It made everything right to have the music override what she thought and felt. It made her want to dance—made her forget.

The song was club-styled dubstep—easy dance work—but what made it soothing was not the fact it took Ymir's mind off of it, but it reminded her of the Pow-Wows of home with its usage of cultural vocals and drumming. She took her coat off and used it as a make shift shawl as she fancy danced, bringing herself to laugh, remembering when Connie got so drunk he used a beach towel and pretended to dance.

There were so many memories that made her smile. Made her feel happiness. At the same time, they made her feel so dull, so achingly empty—a reminder of a moment that she laughed but it didn't make a difference.

It didn't mean nothing.

When she spun in front of the mirrors she caught herself frowning, glaring, and water going down her face—she didn't realize she was working up a sweat. She wiped her eyes, stopping, and changing the song to another by the same artist, A Tribe Called Red.

The vocals were louder than her mind's and she was lost once more. She wished she had something to take the edge off—a taste of beer, maybe a cigarette, or even a hit from a blunt. She wished she was back home—Connie would've hooked her up in a ten seconds.

"Goddammit," Ymir threw her coat down, angry she couldn't stop thinking as she ran a hand through her hair. It was beginning to get a bit longer. Maybe enough to put into a stupid, tiny ponytail.

Ymir walked in circles around the room, gripping her hair, kicking her coat about. The beat kept rising to its climax with the promise of a drop. She worked herself out of the pit that was her mind and jumped when the beat came down, stomping at the ground and going into a men's fancy dance. Her feet angrily tapped the ground as she spun and spun, using the whole room as a stage as if she was in a dance competition, but there was nobody.

Nobody here.

Alone.

Home was so close but so far away.

And because of what?

"Fucking stupid," she stomped over to her coat and kicked it again before flopping against the wall. She couldn't dance right now.

"Fucking stupid!" She ran her hand once more, trying to cool off, find something to latch onto—a memory or a voice. She didn't want to feel the pain. She never asked for it or did anything to deserve it. It just came over her.

_'Promise me—'_

She remembered the darkness under the pine tree, the smell of pitch, campfires, cheap beer, and cigarettes. The distant and loud voices of Sasha, Connie, Ilse, and other kids running by the creek without a care in the world.

_I should've just stayed away._

Seeing her again—Krista or fucking Historia or Barbie or whatever stupid name she went by now—it only ripped off the fresh stitches. It ripped down the dam she was holding so weakly.

_Promises, promises, and promises—why did I make them?_

**-x-x-x-**

Ymir had a towel around her neck, fresh from a shower, wearing her pajamas. She had spent a good three hours down in the dance studio. She was glad Bertolt stopped going down there to confront her after he realized how hot it got down there—boy had the balls to try and do it at school. They left the room like a sauna and the guy looked like he was going to die of a heart attack.

"Ymir," oh, speak of the shit.

Ymir turned, frowning. She only wandered the main floor to get a pop from the fridge. Not to have another discussion that only led to them both hating each other even more.

"What?" Might as well show him nothing changed.

The hallway was dark except for the light seeping from under the study's door. She could barely make out Bertolt's figure, but she could see him open his mouth but he shut it. She didn't know what else he was doing. It was way too dark.

"What." Ymir repeated with a firmer tone. He scoffed, walking away from her.

Good. Whatever it was he must've realized it as pointless. Less time wasted.

"Ymir?" A voice called from the study down the hall, muffled. Baldur's voice.

"Yeah?" Ymir returned it, walking to the study and opening it. Immediately her nose picked up the stench of alcohol.

"Oh, it's good to see you!" His voice was enthusiastic if not a bit drunk. She smiled at him, leaning against the door frame.

"I see you're drinking."

"Oh, my, yes! Yes I am! Very tough day, but, I called you in to tell you—I love you so much. You are such an outstanding daughter!" He smiled at her.

Baldur was a tall and spindly man. He had dark brown hair that was a shade short of black. His skin was tanned but not as much as Ymir's. He had a noticeable aquiline nose, but it was ignored as all the attention was his soft, comforting hazel eyes. Ymir had never seen someone's eyes as expressive as his.

And because of this she saw that he wasn't as happy as his voice indicated.

"Bertolt was here," Baldur spoke, looking down into his glass, sloshing the liquids, "he—hm, he had disagreements with me."

"Oh yeah? Well, the kid has a lot on his mind." Ymir went over to his desk, pulling a seat to it and making herself at home.

"I think so, too. Puberty is such a hard time!" He laughed but his eyes were distant and tired.

"So, what're you drinking?" Ymir asked, nodding to the bottle.

"Oh—well, just vodka…" Bottom of Form

"Just? I don't know—looks kind of fancy."

"Magnum Grey Goose vodka to be exact."

Ymir whistled and earned an honest smile from him.

"You'd be the coolest kid on the reservation with that." She smiled back at him.

It was quiet for a while as he poured himself another drink. His cheeks were already red but Ymir didn't stop him. He was a man with his own will. No doubtingly Bertolt told him to stop. Jerk.

"Ah… I've gotten myself in quite the pickle, Ymir… Wife—ah, ex-wife, she wants to take the house and many things else from me. She's sending the papers here soon—not a word about Bertolt. Poor little guy… he's heartbroken. All because of me."

"It's not your fault. You didn't know."

"No—it was. It truly was. I shouldn't have…been so brash. I shouldn't have—"

Ymir shook her head, waving him away.

"You thought you were divorced. People are people. Comfort is comfort. Crushes are crushes, right?"

"Ah… but marriage and what I did was different—your mother…she was so beautiful. Makes a man want to fall to his knees and cry."

Ymir didn't know what to say to that.

"I was so…whimsical, Ymir… if—" he stopped, taking a drink, "heh…whatever I say just makes everything worse. But, that's of no importance…all old history…"

Ymir knew it wasn't. Every time that bitch called she left him as a blubbering mess that drowned his sorrows in alcohol.

"Say, Dad?"

"Hm?"

"I know you're upset and all, but, mind if I can get some cash? I've been wanting to buy some new clothes…" Ymir asked even though her wardrobe was practically spilling.

"Oh! Certainly! Of course!" He nodded.

"Don't mind at all?"

"No, no, no, of course not! Anything for my little girl, anything."

"Thanks."

Baldur retrieved his wallet and went to counting out the six hundreds that poked out of it—what a fat wallet it was. He retrieved five and gave it to Ymir. She stuffed it into her short's pocket.

"If you ever need anything, Ymir, just ask like you always do. I will do anything… I was a terrible father—never knew you existed till now. It's all I can do to forgive my terribleness." He gave a lopsided, sad smile but his eyes weren't so lonely anymore.

"Maybe the divorce won't be bad if I have you here with me."

Ymir only gave a nod as her father gulped down the last of the vodka.

"Well, I don't know about you," Ymir stood, "but I'm going to bed, alright?"

"Huh? Oh…it is pretty early…look at me, Ymir, I'm drunk before it's even late… Quite silly of me," he laughed but put the bottle away.

"I suppose I should settle down. I'm not as young as I used to be and work is tomorrow. Oh, what a fun day it will be."

"Hopefully it actually will. Night, dad."

"Night."

**-x-x-x-**

Baldur felt his head ache by the next morning. He raced around the kitchen, grabbing a piece of toast as Bertolt was at the table, quiet, brooding—he wished he could stay longer to forgive his drinking of last night, but his son would most likely not listen.

"Have a good day at school, Bert," Baldur gave a kiss to Bertolt's head but the boy shied away from it after.

"I love you."

The sentiment was not returned.

Baldur was about out the door till he felt for his wallet—

"Ah," he sighed, rushing back to the study and retrieving his wallet. Somewhere in there he had a calling card stuffed from a client.

Where was it?

He dug past the six hundreds and found it and left.


	19. A Fairytale

**[ If I Ever Feel Better by Phoenix  
I'll Stay Away by Ivory Hours]**

Ymir didn't talk to me again the next day. Whenever I glanced behind me to see if she was looking at me she always had her earbuds in, messing around in her notebook, or, rarely, glancing at the work. In the halls she was nowhere to be found. After school, she wasn't there. On Friday I stood at the doors, watching outside to see if she was avoiding me and I saw her glance around and resume where we used to stand together.

It was avoidance.

I had only asked her why she called me Krista and she got mad. I didn't understand. Was she mad that I changed my name?

There was no other way she would have known my real name.

If she was mad at me… I hoped that she wouldn't tell others. I had done a Google search not too long ago and found that it made it into the newspapers. Thankfully not front page but it was mentioned in the back. If anyone searched my name they'd know where I came from, what had happened, and who I was—a sad existence that should've been smeared out. They couldn't know my shame and pain. That was only for me to know.

Plus, who knows who'd pick on me for such a shitty upbringing. Everyone here was rich and oblivious. If they knew… they'd treat me poorly.

"Historia," Armin called out and I was brought back to reality—back into the theatre club where everyone was staring at me.

"Huh?"

Armin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Armin just got done explaining why we picked Cinderella as our play for homecoming," Reiner informed but I blankly stared at Armin.

"…We decided Cinderella?"

"Oh my God!" Armin sighed, irritated because he had to explain it over ten times over the chatter of everyone.

"I-I'm sorry."

"It's fine, it's fine," Armin waved my apology away before glancing around at everyone, "you guys better listen better when we actually do it or else I will post all those bad selfies I took of you guys."

Hitch laughed at the blackmail.

"I got one of you, Hitch… a really bad one." Armin retorted, shutting Hitch up.

"As I was saying, we need the roles filled out," Armin told.

"Historia should be Cinderella." Jean and Reiner suggested at the same time.

I didn't want to get a lead role. I thought I could just work in the back and help set up decorations.

"Historia," Armin mumbled, writing my name down before I could interject.

"And, let me guess—you both want to be the prince."

"I am tall, handsome, and actually know about art instead of gorilla here," Jean put a hand to his chest, presenting them a dramatic pose.

"Pfft, a prince needs to be strong!"

"Reiner is the most popular," Hitch spoke to Armin, "get him and I bet you'll have increased sales…"

"Oh."

I could only stare at the two of them, attempting to one-up each other. Armin watched them with amusement and then glanced at me. The two were too busy to see him wink and grin at me, knowing fully well he had the power to potentially play 'matchmaker'.

"How about this," Armin picked his pencil up, pointing at the two of them, "since you want lead roles so much—Reiner, you be Cinderella and Jean you be the prince?"

"What!?" Reiner glared at Armin.

"No!"

Armin laughed.

"Fine. Sorry Jean but Reiner is our best pick."

"What?! Armin!" Jean was going to protest but the two looked at me. I don't know why they did. I really could care less who got the role.

"Um," I glimpsed at Armin, "I… don't really want to be Cinderella…"

"What!? But you are so beautiful!" Jean gasped.

"And kind and you can sing and you are so nice and kind!"

"You repeated yourself!"

Kind?

Nice?

When have I ever been that to them?

I've only known them for such a small time. Not enough to properly express myself.

"But…"

"Historia, you need to have more confidence!" Armin encouraged.

"You are all what they say and more! You'd make the perfect Cinderella! Give yourself more credit!"

It wasn't that I didn't think I could do it. I knew I could—acting was another form of pretending. That was something I was good at. But I didn't want people to know that I was good at acting. I didn't want them to know anything.

"B-But—"

"Just try it!"

"Yeah, you will do great, I promise you will!" Reiner encouraged.

Promise.

"Yeah! I bet you're a natural!" Jean smiled, nodding.

"I'm sure you could manage," even Hitch was supportive.

If I decline again then I would let people down.

If I let people down I was a bad person.

_You're a bad girl._

_Weak, pathetic, useless, a waste of—_

"I-If you guys say so… I will do it." I mustered the smile of someone who was shy, because that's how they saw me—sweet, kind Historia Reiss.

"That's the spirit," Armin finalized his decision.

"…Can I be the prince?" Jean asked.

"No."

"C'mon!"

I didn't expect Reiner to stand and then sit down next to me, grinning.

"It seems like we'll be working from here on out!" Reiner said, patting my shoulder. I didn't know what to do with that. I didn't particularly care that he touched me which was strange in itself. Usually, whenever a guy touched me, I felt uncertain, but Reiner was touching me and that was ok.

It was ok.

"I want to try and work on my role right away, alright?" Reiner told me.

"…um, ok?" I meekly nodded. I truly didn't understand why he told me.

"To do that I need to start treating you like a princess."

"Oh, smooth," Hitch cracked a grin as Jean gaped and then glared. Bertolt on the other hand frowned at the obvious flirting.

"Did you read that on the internet somewhere, Reiner?" Armin asked.

"What? No! I just thought of it!"

"So smooth."

That was new.

Usually, boys stumbled and blushed and then did nasty pranks on me as a way to grab my attention. Nobody was kind and then straightforward before. No leering or crude remarks of how pretty I looked.

"Really?" I asked, somewhat surprised.

But, wow, how Reiner turned crimson when I responded.

Hitch began to snicker behind her hand as Armin laughed.

"W-wh—uh—yeah, i-i-if you want!" Reiner nodded.

"… Did she just ask you out?" Jean was reeling.

I shot a look at him.

"What?" I was surprised.

"You weren't?" Reiner asked.

Awkward.

"N-No… I-I was just…wondering if you were joking." Now I was confused and disappointed. It was the first time a boy was being extra kind and nice. And from the looks of it, Reiner wasn't bad looking either.

"Oh. Well… I always treat you well… I think…" Reiner muttered, looking away.

"God, this is awkward—cut the crap and just ask her out, Braun," Hitch sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Shut up, Hitch!"

"Then stop making this painful for everyone."

Treat me like a princess.

That's what he said.

All the late nights spent back at home, reading my fairytales in my room, listening to the willow and owl outside, Papa's snoring, and then wishing to all the stars above that I could be a princess.

Somebody that was saved from all the bad things.

Taken away from the situation they were dealt.

Even now, I wanted that. It was the one thing that I still clung to from my childhood.

I wanted to be a princess.

**-x-x-x-**

I waited for ten minutes inside the academy's doors. Waiting, waiting, waiting…

And finally she came from around the building, sneaking and glancing. When she thought she was in the clear she went to the curb where we usually stood together, throwing her duffel down and standing. Every now and then she'd start moving like she'd break out into a dance.

As I was about to go outside, I saw her glance around once more. I froze, thankful for the tinted windows on the doors.

She glimpsed right at me.

Then she did it.

She picked her nose.

I could only watch before laughing despite myself. Earlier, I was broken at how she got mad at me. I was hurt she kept avoiding me but this—Ymir…

Ymir was still a goof.

I waited at least ten seconds to ensure she'd be ignorant to what I just saw as I opened the doors and walked out to her.

The moment of relaxed silliness was gone. I was wracked with anxiety as she turned and then froze. I could even hear her curse under her breath as she fiddled with her earbuds.

Was she nervous?

No. I was nervous.

What was I going to say to her?

I had only ever thought of getting her attention, but what was I supposed to do with it now?

I went and stood by her like we had done before. Not a word was said but I could see her keep glancing at me.

I felt my tongue grow heavy and the back of my throat felt tight and clogged. A lot like when I would cry and it felt like I lost my voice, or that it threatened to crack if I so as much tried to speak.

And so we just stood there. Both nervously shuffling and catching each other glancing at each other, forcing nervous, polite smiles, and staring at the fountain before us. It gushed and ran like a snickering reminder of the possibility of us being ok again.

"Hm," Ymir began but her voice cracked and she coughed, glaring, "Um…that's a sexy fountain, huh?"

Really?

That's what she was going to say after all of this?

Goof was an understatement.

"Ymir—"

"Look," her voice was different. It was stern.

"Can we just—" she stopped, quiet.

Can we be friends?

Can we start new?

Can we pick up where we left off of?

Can we forgive each other for being butts?

Can we go out for coffee and catch up?

Can we forget about the awkwardness and be cool again?

Can we swim in the fountain again?

"Look," she tried again. I turned towards her, staring up, but she didn't even look at me.

Can we please be friends again?

Can we be best friends?

Can we be ok?

"Can we just forget about…all of it?"

So we can start new.

"All of it?"

Can we laugh and hang out—you talking about fry bread like you used to and me nodding and smiling, carefree?

I'd forget anything for us to be like that again.

"The… when we were young…"

But, of course, the words I ached for weren't going to come out.

It was always the bad things.

It was always the things that knew how to rip me up on the inside. The kind that stuck with me like a disease to only fester late into the night, taxing my mind and body.

"…Why?" Tell me why I was going to hurt.

Ymir folded her arms, chewing away at her bottom lips.

"We…" she stopped.

My heart kept faltering and squeezing with every time she stumbled over her words or paused.

"It was a long time ago…things are in the past, right?"

**You're holding onto something dead and gone.**

"We were kids."

**I didn't mean what I said.**

"It'd be silly and childish to keep that up, yeah?"

**I no longer want to be your friend.**

I only stared at her, holding my mask so tightly I swore I was breaking it. When she got done talking did she even dare to glance at me.

"Is that what you want?" I asked, smiling. A perfect smile.

"Yeah." She averted her gaze.

"That's fine by me… I wish you told me sooner so I wouldn't have made a fool of myself," I said but I was quivering. She turned towards me.

No.

She heard my vulnerability.

"H-Hey," she put her hands up.

Oh. I was going to cry, wasn't I?

All the years of holding back my tears as my mother screamed or when my grandmother swatted me with the willow meant nothing now. I had blocked myself off from them, sealed it off bit by bit with every minute they did that, over and over, but with Ymir I had laid myself so blindly open like a prisoner to a firing squad.

These words that were bubbling out my mouth were too true and hard to control. They were like puss from an infected wound. There was no hiding it now.

I glared up at her.

"Yo-You are a jerk!"

"Y-Your face pisses me off!"

"I-I-I wish I never met you! Yo-Y-Y-You're an asshole!"

Ymir flinched at every words before smiling something stupid.

"Oh yeah? I probably am. Actually, I am a shitty person."

I was baffled at her just openly admitting it.

"Y—Y—Why'd you say that!?"

Ymir only laughed at me—how dare she laugh at me when I was so angry and crying!

"I'm making you cry! And I definitely don't feel bad about it! Do you hate me? Huh, Krista?"

"D-Don't say that! Don't tell anyone!" I hugged myself and began to shiver.

"Tell me—do you dislike me now? Am I who you thought?"

"Sh-Shut up! I wish I never met you!" It was the only thing I could think of—the only truth that poured out of my mouth like a fountain.

"Good." Her car came as she said that word. She didn't even bother to apologize or spare me a glance. She just hopped right in with her duffle and left, leaving me in the dark once more.

Ymir was nothing like I thought she'd be. Nothing like I thought of her as. My hands immediately went to my thigh, digging my nails in tight and seething between my teeth, forcing myself to not cry.

I could not cry.

I would not cry.

Not for someone as sickening as Ymir who was just like everyone else. She was a manipulative shit that had played on my emotions to only crush them in the end. She threw me away like I was nothing.

_But whose fault was that?_

I had given her too much.

What a stupid mistake.

_Just like you, just like you._

 

**[We often idolize people we meet. Our minds tries to understand who they are and somewhere in the process it grows whimsical and begins to wander into the notion of who they could be to us. It's in these fleeting, impressionable moments we begin to distort the person and we see what we want, we grow to expect and hope for them to be who we want. When reality hits our visions we exprience the shatter of the sought illusion. And who is to blame but yourself? You fooled yourself into it, you set yourself up for failure, and you are left with the aching stupidity that it was your mind that tricked itself into believing its own delusional desires.**

**What a funny thing.]**


	20. I Suffered You

**[ Went to War by Amason  
Make You Better by The Decemberists]**

"You are the one I've been looking for!" Reiner told me. He was knelt down as I sat in a chair. His yellow eyes were bright and he was smiling—it was a rather nice smile.

My surprise slowly melted to something that'd convey warmth, excitement—love. I couldn't fake a blush but I could pretend to bubble with a relieved laugh, nodding.

"What is your name?" Reiner asked, standing and taking my hand. He pulled me up and I only went barely to his chest. He stared down at me, holding my hands in earnest.

I opened my mouth, pretending the world itself was only a spotlight set on us.

"My name is Cinderella."

"Annnndd we're good." Armin concluded.

"Wow, you sure can convince," Hitch remarked with her usual catty grin, slowly clapping.

"They do well together." Armin agreed. Bertolt was clapping with a small smile, nodding. I felt bad for him. He always looked so uncomfortable or worried. I looked up to see if Reiner was concerned, but he was still staring at me with a stupid smile. His hands still held mine, too.

"I think I'm not all the way convinced, though." Hitch shrugged. Reiner snapped out of it, looking away. His hands kept hold of mine. Only lowering them a little.

"Honestly, isn't this true love? Where's the tension? Where's the climax of it all? Just to end with the words 'my name is Cinderella' and then happily ever after? I want to see a kiss."

"Wh-What!?"

"No!" Bertolt shot out, catching everyone off guard. He was always collected and polite.

"I—I don't think Historia is comfortable with it… Sh—she didn't really want the role to begin with." Bertolt pointed out.

I was surprised that he remembered or even paid attention to me. Everyone else had mistaken my decline as that I was too shy and uncertain when I really didn't want to be bothered.

"I-I think it's bad, too," Reiner said, pulling away and crossing his arms, "the prince obviously likes her… he treats her like the princess of his dreams… I don't there needs to be a kiss."

"Plus, we have more to worry about," Bertolt responded, grabbing his co-producer clipboard.

"We don't have enough people to work on props, background characters, and lighting… we'll need others to join, or have a few other clubs help."

"Yeah but they're busy, too."

"Mina is busy with conditioning," Hitch frowned, thinking, "plus, if we ask any of the other clubs, they'd want favors, too."

"We can afford that." Armin waved her off.

"The next play wouldn't be until near Halloween and Christmas. In between we can offer to clean after their activities for a day or so."

"Cleaning? Really?" Hitch whined.

"If we're going to have a play then it has to be good." Armin glared at her.

"Exactly, either way," Bertolt concluded before the bickering got worse, "we have to worry about that while our main actors work on their lines."

"I know the fashion club would be happy to showcase their work for costumes." Armin got excited at the prospect.

"Hannah and Franz would like that," Hitch nodded.

The group went onto speaking about ends that had to be met and I was losing interest in it. I went to sit down at a vacant table, watching them to show as if I was listening, but I was getting lost again. That nervous bleeding came back into my stomach and I thought of the sour yet sweet taste of huckleberries. I thought of how Ymir invited me to swim with her. It was the opposite of what she said.

I didn't understand it at all. It was a tie between trying to comprehend whether she got carried away or if she had been lying to me.

And I had said words that I meant—cruel, cold words. For every time I missed her, every time I believed I'd find her and she'd keep her promise to be my friend, to protect me, I was left vacant and hollow and shattered. I had believed her so foolishly.

"Hey," Reiner sat down beside me, "what're you thinking about?"

"Huh?"

"You got that distant look on your face," he asked. He didn't have a smile. Just a knowing look.

"Oh… I was thinking of what I'll be doing."

"Doing?"

"Um, yeah, like homework, tutoring…" Truthfully, math had been difficult. My old school was in terrible shape over the math state testing. I didn't think I was bad at it, but when I came to this school I realized I was very bad.

"Oh, are you having any problems in any class?" Reiner asked as if he could read my mind.

"Not really…"

"I don't mean to pry," Reiner itched his cheek, "but I noticed you aren't doing well in math."

"A-Ah," I nervously smiled.

I thought it wasn't noticeable? He must have been checking my work when I wasn't looking.

"Armin told me—"oh that loud mouth "and he said I should help you."

Oh, that loud mouth brat.

I knew exactly what he was doing.

"Oh, yeah… I'm having trouble, but I can do it." I assured. I didn't want him to waste his time on me. He had football, his own homework, and theatre to do. He didn't need me to stack on top of his schedule.

"I wouldn't mind it." Reiner smiled, leaning against the table and crossing his arms, watching Hitch and Armin fight over prop ideas.

"I actually would enjoy it. I want to get to know you more."

Get to know me?

Why would he want to do that? Wasn't it enough that I was pretty to look at?

"Really, you don't have to if you don't wan—"

"I really do," he changed his gaze to me, frowning, "really, it's not a problem. I really want to help. I like helping."

I suppose he was right. Armin had asked Reiner for help regarding the play and he volunteered to take a part in it. Jean struggled with math and Reiner always helped him out. Whenever Bertolt seemed overly stressed Reiner was there. It was only now did I realize that he seemed rather genuine in his offer.

"If it doesn't bother you or take up you time," I trailed and he grinned, nodding.

"Yeah, anytime when I'm not at practice or here, I can help. Hey, how about this, I give you my cellphone number and I get yours and if you ever need help you can text me and we can talk about it over that, and if it's still hard I can come over to Armin's and help? I really don't mind. We actually live only a couple miles away from each other." He pulled his cellphone out and I looked up and didn't find any malice.

I fished mine out of my purse because I hadn't memorized mine. I had no use of knowing because nobody had asked for it before.

We exchanged our numbers as Reiner smiled and sent a test message to me.

_Hey_

I smiled, putting my phone back in my purse.

"So, yeah, if you need any help just text or call." Reiner went back to listening to the group as they barely made it through round three of the Armin and Hitch fight.

It was nice, though…for him to ask me if I needed help. I usually didn't ask or say yes to those sort of things. I always felt like if I did comply that I would be a helpless burden, which people would see how useless I was in the end, but Reiner was nice. He was a nice guy so far except for what he did to—no. He was definitely nice.

I glanced up at him, wondering why he was so nice.

Was it because he only liked me?

Or was he really that kind hearted?

**-x-x-x-**

I stood outside in the sweltering heat, fanning myself with a thick packet of homework. When would autumn come? I missed the coolness of it, the rainy days, and the happier memories of childhood that went with it.

I sighed, bringing my hand up to wipe away some of the sweat that was accumulating. I should probably wait in the shade, but I didn't want to make Pixis wait for me to run to the car…

"Hey."

I turned, frowning as Ymir approached. She had her hands behind her back with her duffel bag, looking down sheepishly, and scuffed her sneakers against the ground.

I turned away, feeling sour. Why the hell was she bugging me?

"Look, I was an asshole yesterday."

She was a bully.

Ymir had mocked me and how I felt. She had made me cry when I already felt terrible. She fucking rubbed my nose in it.

"Krista, please."

"Don't say that name."

"Ok…Historia, please, at least let me say sorry." There was a shuffle behind me and I glanced back again, almost expecting huckleberries but instead she had water balloons in her duffelbag.

…Why the—

"I got Bertolt with one…and Hitch. Even Reiner," she gave a cheeky smirk as she tossed the red balloon up and down. It made sloshing sounds with each impact.

I then glared at her. If she thought she was going to nail me with that—

"Here," Ymir put it in my hand and then stood proud as if she was going to salute like she did to Sasha long ago.

"What?" I stared at the balloon then at her stupid face.

"Hit me with it!" She smiled, stretching her arms out.

"…Why…"

"Do it! I promise you'll feel better!"

Promise…

PROMISE!?

"You are the worst!" I threw it at her face in rage and she flinched.

And the water balloon hit it.

It bounced off.

And fell.

On the road.

Sloshing and unfazed.

I looked up from it at the same time as Ymir did and we stood there, staring at each other. I got the torture of watching her face break into a grin as she looked away, itching at her face before sputtering and laughing.

"Oh my God!" She hissed, trying to contain herself.

"Don't even talk to me," I turned away from her, glaring at the betrayal I felt at that water balloon. All the luck in the world robbed me from my vengeance of wiping that smirk off her face! Now she was going to just tease me! I sat there, crossing my arms as she laughed and laughed.

"I-I-I'm sorry, Historia! I-I really am, b-b-b—BAHAHA!" She was in an uproar once more.

I blocked her out as I stared at the gate, pretending she wasn't there. It wasn't funny at all. The other day she told me to practically fuck off and then now she was laughing at my own expense. I wish she'd just disappear or stay away from me. All she did was mock me.

"Ok, ok, ok," Ymir schooled herself as I heard more giggling and shuffling, "I brought more, I brought more."

Everything was going fine till she tapped my shoulder and forced me to turn towards her. This time it was a yellow water balloon.

"Here," she smiled, "I promise that this one will work."

"UGH!" I slapped it out of her hand and it splatted against the ground.

"…ok…" Ymir took a blue one out and presented it.

"Um, if you aim for my face, I promi—"

"Knock it off! I don't want your balloons!" I took it and threw it onto her duffelbag, getting whatever was in there wet. This time she glared at me, irritated.

"What the hell? I'm trying to apologi—"

"I don't want your apology! It won't work!" I knew how those games went—they'd bully me, they'd laugh, they'd say their sorry to get my guard down, and then they'd do it all over again to watch me hurt. I wasn't going to fall for it.

"Jesus, you don't have to yell at me!" Ymir narrowed her eyes, putting her hands up as if in defense.

I was yelling?

Oh.

I was.

I must've looked surprised because she lowered her hands a bit, analyzing me.

"Kri—Historia—"

"No."

"Hey, I said I was so—" it was all too familiar. It was like my world was spinning when we were back on the Ferris wheel. I remember telling her to stop but she just laughed and kept rocking the seat, making me cry as I held on. It never mattered how I felt. It only mattered how funny the joke was, because my comfort meant nothing.

"No."

"No what?"

"Just no."

"That doesn't make sense!"

"It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me!"

"Ymir, just leave me alone."

"Fine."

We stood there, staring ahead of each other, not saying a word, waiting for life to pick us up from the mess we made.

 

**[Anger always brings out the truth. It destroys any masks and makes you say things that you kept deep inside. What happens when you watch it happen?**

**You just watch.]**


	21. I Couldn't See

The stereo was playing Patsy Cline as steam had fogged up the mirror. I went over to it, wiping it away to look at my face—blue eyes caught blue. I put on facial cream, something that reminded me of my mother, but it was only a temporary memory. It was easily shut out with everything else.

The towel on my head shifted and I corrected it as I grabbed my body towel and went to open the door to my room, humming the song under my breath.

I sat at my bed, picking up the script with my dry hands, flipping over it and looking at all the highlighted lines I had to memorize.

I didn't even want to do it.

It was too late now, though. Armin had taken my measurements and sent them over to the fashion club. I glanced over to my backpack that was by my desk—the large math book peeking out of it like a sore reminder.

I flopped down onto my bed.

I really didn't want to think about it. My studies and tutoring for ballet and piano were going along fine. I was showing improvements every time father came back and asked to watch or listen.

What would he say if he learned I was struggling in math?

He'd be disappointed.

Disappointment.

I reached out, grabbing my purse at the edge of the bed, digging in it, humoring the thought of texting Reiner for help—but what if he was busy? I didn't want to bug him. It'd be better if I didn't at all. He probably was probably more burdened and stressed than me.

"Historia!" The door flung open and I immediately sat up, bewildered as Armin came in, grinning and waving the script around.

My arms wrapped around my toweled body. I didn't heard what he said.

My fingers dug into my ribcage and I didn't see him anymore.

I felt teeth on my neck, someone's tongue against my lips. I felt those worms come back, gnawing under my skin, making it hot and bruised, making me want to cry but I was too choked up.

"Historia?"

"G-Get out!" I snapped, grabbing my blankets and covering myself.

"I-I'm sorry—"

"GET OUT!" I screamed at Armin as he quickly did as I told, leaving without saying another word. When he was out I ran to my door, realizing my mistake in not locking it—stupid, stupid, stupid. I bolted it close and brought the chair right against it, barricading it like how I did every night, but this time the damage was done.

The memory was festering and leaped out of the darkest, forgotten corner of my mind—his rough hands, being seen when I didn't want to be, the word 'no' lost on the back of my tongue.

Girl.

I couldn't stand it.

My mind—I had control of it. It was mine. I didn't have to think of it—it was gone, gone, gone, GONE!

But yet those memories kept coming up against my own will. My mother screaming, my grandfather yelling and slugging the man, and then realizing—my hand went to my neck and shoulder, touching where it would have hurt, where those marks would have been, and it felt hot to my hand.

I tried to clear my throat as my heart drummed loud and hard. This feeling was like when I leaned too far back in the chair and about falling. Except there was no way to stop it. It just kept coming in waves, growing and growing until tears came down my face.

I didn't want to feel this—something was clawing at my back, something aching was in my stomach. Every part of me wished it could tear away, run away from this relentless fear.

I nearly yelped as I felt my bed vibrate. I glanced over to my phone, seeing it shift ever so slightly.

Reiner—written in glowing letters shone through with a little envelope underneath. Shakily, I brought my hand out, checking the message.

_Hey. On the homework, there's a trick question. I had some trouble with it. Need help?_

It was something to distract me. If I could pretend I never felt this, if I could pretend I didn't feel bad then maybe I would believe it and I would never feel bad.  
I kept making mistakes as I typed, constantly shaking but slowly I was able to make something comprehensible.

_I haven't started._

I sent it and within seconds I receive a reply back. It didn't give my mind time to indulge on what I left behind.

_The problem or homework?_

It was easier to type now that I was able to control my hands a bit better.

_Homework._

I went to my backpack, lugging out the heavy book and brought it to my bed. I glanced around, trying to find paper and a pencil but I caught a glance at my reflection in the vanity—no.

No. No. No.

Another message resonated and I went to the dresser, quickly slipping into some lounge clothes before checking my phone.

_Do you want me to come over and help?_

No.

I didn't want anyone to see me.

_It's fine._

Sent.

I skimmed through the pages until I found the homework and glanced over the problems. There were things I didn't even know—sin and cos? When did I ever learn that? We didn't touch algebra before.

Another message.

_I don't mind. I'm not doing anything._

Pretend to be ok. Pretend to be fine.

I'm good at that.

_Ok. Thank you._

I'd just have to go to the parlor and study there with him.

Maybe apologize to Armin.

I was gathering the things I'd need until there was another text. I glanced over.

_Ok that I can come over…?_

He was so cautious.

_Yes._

What a dork.

**-x-x-x-**

Reiner must have been lying.

When he got here he didn't waste time to help me. What startled me the most was that he wore glasses—it was oddly fitting if not a little cute. He started from the first problem and breezed through them with ease, teaching me where I was lost and filling in the gaps. It was hard to believe that he had problems with the work at all.

"Where did you go to school before?" Reiner asked, slipping off his glasses and cleaning them with a napkin.

"Um—" right.

Why did I ever think it would never be asked?

"I mean… you should have learned that by now." Reiner put his glasses back on, staring at me.

"Yeah… my school was behind on things, but… I didn't know you wore glasses?" I peered up at him as we sat on the couch, pouring over our books and inevitably the scripts.

"Oh, yeah," Reiner laughed, "I wear contacts…glasses are too dangerous in football."

It made sense. It was just strange to see him with glasses on. At school, Mina and Hitch would daydream loudly about him in the girl's bathroom—his muscles, his eyes, and how handsome he was. It was true. I could see that he was attractive but I didn't see him as what they saw, I didn't see him as something to look at. I saw him as a person.

It was hard to see him that way—a person outside of school. His glasses only made it that more apparent.

I felt like he had other things about him. Things he didn't bring up at school or that he hid as well. I don't know what led me to believe it except that he played his part as the kind boy-next-door jock a little too well—perfect grades, great at sports, good looking, and a good person. It was almost unsettling to me, because I saw myself in that. Maybe that's how I knew because we were similar.

"Hm," Reiner caught my gaze and smiled a bit, "now that we're done, I can tell you about a few books that might help you—or did you want to do something else?"

"What do you like to do for fun?" I asked, leaning back into the couch. My anxiety from earlier was still bubbling and sloshing in my stomach like a sludgy brew, but it was more manageable right now. It was always easier around people.

"I like to play sports, read, and—"I was right. He listed off things that people would find admirable—hobbies that nobody could look down upon. They were just things people idolized.

Maybe I was morbid in wanting to see a fault in his own mask or maybe I wanted to get closer to someone who was a lot like me, but I couldn't help myself in wondering.

Did he hurt inside, too?

Did he get anxiety as well?

If he did he never showed it. He was always smiling, laughing, and helping others. In a strange way he reminded me of Freida in the sense he somehow achieved the face of perfection.

Was I anywhere close to that? No. No, I wasn't. I struggled with math and didn't play sports. I didn't even do anything to help others.

"Hey," Reiner called out and I was pulled out of my thoughts, "what're you thinking about?"

"Oh…it's nothing."

"Nah, tell me—don't worry. Just be honest. I don't mind." Reiner gave an encouraging smile. And what a smile it was—I was right in that he somehow achieved being the ideal person.

"Really?" I challenged quietly. He gave another nod.

"I was thinking…what you thought of me?"

Reiner's cheeks went red again as he glanced away in obvious thought.

Would he lie to me to make me feel better about myself or would he be good and true?

Either way, it was a trick question.

"W-Well," he crossed his arms, "I-I think you're a really wonderful girl… I know I just met you b-but I just… find you really nice. You're very soft with your words, you have this look—I don't know… I just really…really like you."

Oh.

I had forgotten.

He must've misunderstood my question, because I didn't really mind why he liked me or the reasons. I only wanted to know what he thought of me so far—what my mask looked like and if it had the effect I was hoping for.

I guess I wouldn't know now.

"O-Oh."

What was I supposed to say to that?

"I-I got to go!" Reiner stood up, hastily snatching up his things and nearly sprinting to the door.

"W-What? Wait," I stood up.

I felt bad.

"I-I will talk to you tomorrow, Historia." He blubbered in embarrassment and was gone, leaving Armin wide-eyed in the hallway.

"When did Reiner get here!?" Armin asked.

"And what happened?!"

I only stood there, confused and startled as much as he was.

"Wait—no," Armin came up, putting down his cellphone and grabbing my hands, "don't tell me—" he must've saw it on my face because his eyes went wide as he grinned.

"Oh man!" He snickered, pulling away and laughing behind his hand like an evil mastermind. I could only watch and wait for Armin to enlighten me.

"He tried asking you out didn't he!?"

"…Not really…"

"What!?"

"Well… he said he liked me." I left out the really, really part.

"And what did you say?" Armin came closer, eager and looming over me.

"I—I said nothing?" I didn't even really get the chance to say anything, but even if I did—what could I say?

Did I like him, too?

"Nothing!? NOTHING!?" Armin was reeling with shock.

"No wonder Reiner went racing out! He thought you rejected him—wait, did you?!"

"I—I don't know…"

"What do you mean you don't know, Historia?! It's a yes-or-no question! Either you like the guy or you don't!" Armin went and flopped on the couch, putting a hand on his head, sighing dramatically.

"All this happens without me knowing! How could this happen?" He lamented to himself.

"I… I don't really know him… he seems nice, I guess?"

"He's a really good guy! He's been tripping all over you!"

Armin was right. It was painfully obvious Reiner had something for me.

"He's really nice to me," I agreed, "and I like being around him…"

He helped me without forcing me to feel like I owed him anything. He was just happy to be of help.

The more I thought about it the more it would make sense that I did like him.

Wasn't a relationship about being around someone and liking them? Girls who liked boys always spoke how great the guy was. I thought Reiner was a great person, too.

Maybe it was something.

"See! You like him, too, don't you? You don't have to be shy!" Armin nodded, trying to force me to see my own ways.

"Oh," Armin looked down, "um, I'm sorry for barging in without knocking… It was just… I came up with a new scene for the script that made it a lot better than the old one… I thought you'd like to see it."

I was surprised he wanted to share anything with me at all. We usually didn't talk much back at home—he went to his room and I went to mine and that was that. We never got the time to get close.

Though, honestly, I still held a grudge against him for being such…an asshole for the first two weeks.

It didn't matter really. He was always gone for some reason.

"Oh… It's alright, I—I just panicked," I gave a bashful smile, because he didn't deserve to know what actually happened. Nobody would see my weaknesses and vulnerabilities. They were mine only.

"…so, um, did you want to see it?" Armin ventured.

"Oh, yeah, I can," I nodded, going to sit on the couch with Armin as he flipped through the pages.

"It's such a mess. Everyone is racing to get this done last minute. We will be lucky if we remember half of the lines so I'm making this one final edit and handing it back out. I figured you guys only got the first couple of pages—this scene is the very last. I had to cut out the kiss since… you know…" Armin stopped, glancing up at me. I knew what he was asking silently, wondering if actually did want to kiss Reiner. It would be an obvious sign I was into him if I said yes.

"Well…maybe… we can add that."

"Really?" Armin lifted his eyebrows, observing me with a growing wicked, little smile that screamed 'I knew it'.

"Maybe," I emphasized, "I don't know how I feel still."

Prince Charming was always good—strong, handsome, kind, and loved by all. Reiner was a perfect fit.

Prince Charming always got the Fair Princess.

It was in every fairytale that I ever read. It was like the sky with its clouds—natural. Nobody questioned it.

Everyone around me seemed to be nudging Reiner and me closer like it was fate.

Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't.

Who was I to ask?


	22. You Coming So Far

**[Pin Your Wings by Copeland]**

"Spike!"

My eyes widened at watching Ymir sail through the air like she had sprouted wings. All the girls watched as she raised her hand and slammed it down on the volleyball with such ferocity. The girls on the other side of the net gasped, moving out of the way as it slapped the ground with a crack and went shooting away.

"Point," the PE teacher nodded towards our side as Ymir landed, rolling her shoulder and popping her knuckles.

"Wow, look at you," Hitch grinned, walking over to Ymir and elbowing her into the side.

We all rotated to different positions as Ymir was up to serve. I wasn't expecting anything until I saw Ymir grinning, playfully pushing Hitch back.

"I'm pretty good," she told the other girl and Hitch rolled eyes, shoving her back to the line. I glanced between them.

When did they become close?

"Eyes in front, Reiss," the PE teacher whistled, but all the girls on my team watched as Ymir dribbled the ball a bit before pacing back.

What was she—

Ymir threw it high in the air in front of her and took a few trained steps before launching herself back into the air.

The ball began to descend.

Ymir's hand was arching forward.

It was perfectly coordinated as her hand made contact and the ball launched with fiery speed to the other side. Mina was the only one to try and dive for it as another girl yelped and jumped out of the way.

It slammed on their court and bounced out once more.

"Ace," the PE teacher clapped, smiling at Ymir, "what's your name—Langnar or Hoover, Ymir?"

"Langnar."

"Well, I know a good player when I see one. Thinking about joining the volleyball team? Still got time."

Hitch went to Ymir, putting her elbow on the girl's shoulder, smiling and whispering something to her.

I felt my stomach roll uneasily.

"No, sir. I'm not much of a volleyball player."

"Nonsense! Look at your spikes and serves! Damn good of a player! At least come to one practice!"

"Yeah, we could use you," Hitch grinned more.

I didn't like the way Hitch smiled at people—it was like she knew something more. Which was a lie because she couldn't know more about Ymir. They hardly ever interacted and yet Hitch was acting like she knew her.

"Ok, serve again!" The teacher threw the volleyball to Ymir who caught it, spinning it on her finger, and walking back, repeating the dribble, throw, and slam down.

Again.

Again.

Every time Hitch would grin or whisper something her, laughing. It was like icy stones in my throat and stomach to see them being so familiar.

Out of all the people Ymir could choose to be friends with she went with Hitch.

"Game," the PE teacher ended the onslaught before excusing us to the locker room to change. Slowly, all the students went to the respective lockers. By now I was used to some of the girls laughing, stripping down to bras and underwear and parading themselves like super models. Even a few were confident enough to walk nude to the showers.

I learned to keep my eyes to myself as I went to my locker, retrieving my uniform, and walking back to a stall to change.

"Ymir, you have such nice abs," at that I couldn't help but look over to see Ymir in a sport's bra, playfully flexing as Hitch slapped her stomach, causing the tall girl to cough and then chuckle.

I ripped my gaze away and quickly went into the stall and hastily changed and darted out of the locker room. I didn't need to linger in there.

"Historia!" I had gotten out so fast that I saw Bertolt and Reiner coming back from the weight room. Reiner came over, smiling nervously.

Bertolt didn't look happy but he nudged Reiner to go to me.

He jogged over, sweaty, and his muscles were bulging. I didn't know what I felt about that.

"Hey, I—I'm sorry about last night… I just got nervous and all… um, but, I don't want to sound mean or anything, but… it looks like you struggle with math…maybe I can come over every day after football practice to help?"

Every day?

I shifted my weight onto my other foot.

"I-I appreciate it," he was so nice to me. I didn't know why but it made me happy, "b-but it's ok."

"No, really, I want to help…I doesn't bother me." He assured me. I felt stupid for him having to fight to help me. I did want his help but I didn't want him to ever think like I was wasting his time. He was a good person.

"I-If that's ok…" I felt Reiner's hand on my shoulder and he lightly squeezed it. I glanced up and he was grinning like an idiot.

"It's ok!" He chuckled and I couldn't help but smile, too.

A contagious, genuine one.

**-x-x-x-**

Mr. Ackerman's voice was almost as soft as the hush of the rain outside the window. It was cracked to allow the smell of wet summer to fill the room with its lackadaisical scent. It made me wish I had my Harry Potter book and a mug of hot chocolate with me. Nothing sounded better than that and sitting out in the sun room, watching the day get washed away.

"You've most likely read all these books given they're mandatory in the academy's middle school," Mr. Ackerman drolled, writing on the dry-erase board with quick precision.

Just watching him write as if he was a human type-writer was aesthetically pleasing.

Then, I realized, I wasn't here for their middle school as he kept writing numerous books down on the board.

I must've looked stunned because Reiner caught on and raised his hand.

"Sir!"

Mr. Ackerman finished his listing before turning around, staring plainly.

"Historia wasn't a part of the academy's middle school." Reiner informed.

I cleared my throat a little as the man's eyes went to me as if evaluating my entire existence.

"That is correct. Along with another student," Mr. Ackerman's eyes went back to the back row where Ymir sat, staring back, and not looking as pleased either.

"I've already came up with a different direction for those two as the previous reading is required for the assignment. Miss Reiss and Langnar, please come to me after class to be given your reading assignment and syllabus." He went back to outlying the instructions on the board and I shot Ymir a look.

When she caught my eyes she simply shrugged as if she didn't know anything better.

"Don't worry," Reiner said, glaring back at Ymir, "if she gives you a hard time I will talk to her, ok?"

"Th-That's ok."

"No…you don't deserve someone to bully you."

I felt a blush go up my cheeks. Something I couldn't control.

Someone believed I didn't deserve to get bullied?

It was the first time in years since someone told me that. And to say it in a way that he'd protect me.

I wasn't sure what to make of it but I just nodded. He smiled and class went by uneventfully till the bell rang and Reiner patted my back, leaving to stand outside, ready to walk me to my next class.

Ymir reached Mr. Ackerman's desk before I could as he waited.

"Good. I've been given records to see you two came from undistinguished schools. I assume only bits and pieces of the works listed on the board were in your studies. Tell me—how many of these did you read?"

"Um," Ymir glanced at the board, "maybe… Something Wicked This Way Comes…and uh…"

"Miss Reiss?" Mr. Ackerman sighed, displeased.

"I-I've read maybe four of those books…on my own."

He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair.

"That's fine. I've assumed as much. I will have to work out a learning plan for both of you that fits the academy's standards while ensuring you aren't drowning. Now, I want you two to read one from the list. Which one would you prefer?"

"Uh," Ymir didn't seem too interested in anything as she kept skimming the list.

What could we read?

A few of the titles sounded familiar and—

"You guys are taking too long. Read Going Bovine." Mr. Ackerman stood up and I never realized how short he was until he was right by Ymir. He led us to the cabinets in the back which contained rows of books. He retrieved two copies and handed them to us.

"It will be a group activity as I cannot take away too much time from the class to help you two, sadly. However, I will always be available during lunch and between periods or afterschool from three to five. Understood?"

"Yeah," Ymir flipped through the pages as if there'd be pictures.

"Good. Read to the first chapter and we will speak tomorrow and I will print out syllabuses. I only regret that the academy didn't warn me beforehand." He clicked his tongue and left us by each other.

"Reading till the first chapter…" Ymir huffed, flipping the pages until she found the count and groaned at seeing how many she had to read.

I glanced over and it wasn't bad. She was being dramatic.

I didn't say anything as I glanced at my own book. I was still upset at her.

One minute she was all giggles and carefree like the Ymir I knew and then she'd turn cold and start saying things I wish I had never heard.

"So, do we…need to read this together or something?" Ymir asked, holding the book sideways.

Honestly.

"I don't know." I put my book into my satchel and went to walking away but Ymir caught up to me.

"Look, I'm sorry, I really am," she attempted but her words from before still hurt. She was just like the others—ripping open my stitches and then waiting till I closed them to repeat.

"Hey, Historia, come on," Ymir sighed, "we all have bad days and that day I was having one, alright? I said shit I didn't mean—"

"What was that, Langnar?" Mr. Ackerman frowned.

"Nothing!"

We were at the door as she hopped in front of me.

"Do you understand, Historia? I said things that I didn't mean. Look, I'm sorry. Right now things aren't cool, aight?"

"Ymir," I snapped at her, "an apology won't fix what you said! Y-Y-You were horrible!"

"Hey," Reiner's hand went to my arm and I felt like crying all over again. I hated that she kept making me feel terrible. I thought we had been friends before and that she promised to fight off all the bad things that I came at me.

But we were kids—that's the stupid thing. That was her excuse.

"Butt out, gorilla," Ymir huffed, glaring at him.

"Excuse me," Reiner stepped in front of me, putting himself between us, "but I think Historia doesn't want to talk to you anymore. You're harassing her. I suggest you stop."

Ymir only glanced behind him, seeing me as I stared at her.

I didn't like that Reiner was jumping into our own business. I—

"You know what, whatever—have your damn boyfriend fight your own fights. Thought you were stronger than that." Ymir swatted her hand in the air and walked away.

"Historia, you ok?"

"Historia?"

"Yeah…just caught up in the moment…"

"You sure—you don't look good…"

"I'm fine… I want to be alone."

"…You seem upset…"

"Reiner…just…I need space."

I wasn't weak.

I only appeared that way. People loved to interpret me as weak just because I was small and pretty.

Maybe there was truth in it.

Especially if Ymir said it.

**-x-x-x-**

"—you're not paying attention." Reiner took his glasses off, cleaning them.

"Historia… what really happened?" He asked, putting them back on and putting down his math book as he reclined back into the sofa.

I didn't know what to say.

I was weak after all.

All I could do was hide my face in my hands because I felt like I was being torn into once more. I hated that the smallest things always buried deep in me. No matter how many times I told myself ot ignore what the bullies said—slut, bastard, useless—it always clawed at me when night came.

There was no sleep.

Just nightmares.

Even now when there were no bullies I'd find myself running to my room after school to burrow under my blankets and rot. Somewhere in there I could feel myself break and those words would hit their mark.

I just wished I could run away back into my room, but—

"I—I—I wish Ymir was my friend."

I broke apart in front of him and I didn't mean to. The rain outside was heavy and it only taunted me to sniffle and croak even more.

I hated it when I cried.

People made fun of me.

They'd be smug because that's what they aimed to do—to make me cry.

But Reiner wasn't like that.

He wrapped his arms around me and let me cry into his shoulder. I could smell something on him—Papa's smell of his deodorant.

It didn't help one bit. It reminded me of home where I knew how to cope, where I knew what to do to get thoughts out of my head.

Here, there was nothing I knew, no familiar place that I could call home.

Months ago I thought this was my time to change and break away, but I couldn't escape even with a new mask.

I only learned it was even lonelier. That my expectations and dreams were wrong.

"It's alright," Reiner patted my back, rubbing it in a way nobody had done for me before, "Historia… go ahead. It's ok."

But it wasn't all true—I wasn't that lonely, I guess.

Reiner was here. He was a good guy.

I held onto him and I felt my snot smear over his shirt.

"I-I-I-I'mmm s'as'saa'sowrr'sworrryyyy!"

"Nah, it's okay…It's fine…I just want you better…Let it out."

He was the nicest anybody had been for me.


	23. I Just Turn Around

Reiner met me at the entrance of the school, walking with me through the halls. He had his hands behind his neck and I held my satchel close, feeling highly stupid and afraid of what he had to say to my breakdown. 

“So… you two met at a fair.” He began and I could only nod. 

“She promised to be your friend always…sort of? And since then you haven’t seen each other till now…” Reiner continued and the more he spoke of it the dumber I felt. I hadn’t told him all the reasons or where I came from or why I held onto it so much, because I didn’t want anyone to know that part of me anymore. If they didn’t acknowledge it then maybe it would disappear. 

“…I don’t want to sound mean,” and those words hit my heart heavily as he paused, thinking carefully of his words, “but that’s a lot of weight to put on something…so long ago.” 

He was right. Terribly right. 

I ducked my head and tried to find a reason that went against his logic, but, again, he was right. So fucking right. I was holding onto a stupid thing, but how else would he have felt if the only person who didn’t make you feel like a mistake or waste of time promised to come back? 

“…Why would you care so much?” Reiner asked and it made my train of thought stop. I glanced up at him and he was looking expectantly at me. 

“I—“I couldn’t tell him the truth. It was gone. It was over. That part of me would stay buried as long as I could keep it that way. 

“I—I had a hard time making friends…” It was partially true and couldn’t be considered a lie. 

“…Was she your first friend…ever?” He went further. I forgot he wasn’t stupid yet I was surprised every time he was able to find something behind my words—a door kept closed but not locked. 

“Y-yes.” Please don’t make fun of me.

“Oh, well, that makes a lot more sense!” Reiner said, smiling down at me when I looked up in question. 

Did it make sense?

“I met Bertolt when I was a kid,” he brought his arms down, crossing them, grinning, “he was moving around a lot for his first years in school. I promised him we’d always be friends. Now, don’t tell him I said this but he didn’t make friends when he was moving around. Eventually, in middle school, he came back and we were best friends again.

“If Bertolt didn’t keep his promise, I would be pretty crushed.” Reiner concluded. 

“So I can understand where you’re coming from.” He assured. He was looking ahead down the hallway, unable to see my smile at him as I looked back down at the ground. 

Nobody had told me it was okay to feel that way before. 

“She keeps trying to apologize.” I told him and he raised an eyebrow at me. 

“But I don’t want to accept it…not yet at least… she was absolutely terrible to me…”

“I don’t know. A few water balloons to the face would be pretty good, wouldn’t it?” He nudged me with his elbow. The thought of pelting her face with three or four made me smile and laugh under my breath. 

“Maybe.” 

Just as we were joking, Hitch and a group passed by us. She turned around, smirking. 

“You two should just go out already!” She remarked, winking at Reiner as his face went red and he stopped in his tracks. I frowned and waited for him. 

“She should stay out of other people’s business,” he muttered, unable to look at me now. 

I didn’t say anything but only stared at him. He hadn’t ask me out or anything since he confessed. Maybe it would be nice for him to be more. 

If he was already this nice and good to me as a friend then it could only get better. That’s what I believed. 

“Um, Bertolt is waiting for me… He wanted to look over—um, yeah, I will talk to you later,” he saw I was staring and must’ve gotten frightened because he clumsily went to jogging away, nearly knocking over Professor Zoe. 

I laughed at seeing such a bulky guy trying to weave through the halls. 

I continued walking the way I was going—it would go down the club hallway and then I’d take a right and just circle my way back just in time for the bell. It kept me busy and away from everyone questioning or talking loudly above me. 

The halls became empty as I went through the deeper end of the club rooms. Hardly anyone did—I glanced up at a sign—Croquet. Yeah, my point was made by the very niche type of clubs that probably weren't even in use anymore. 

I continued down the hall until I noticed large doors at the end of the hall. They had windows that peered into something bright—windows?

As I got closer and closer, I realized that these were the very same doors I saw Bertolt and Ymir come out of…sweaty. 

I picked up my pace, wanting to see why they’d be in there. If there was nothing then—then what if they were… 

I put my hands against the doors, shoving them open and loud music rang through the whole hallway. I jumped as the doors closed behind me and I put my hands over my ears. 

Then I saw her. 

The music had heavier bass, beating right into my chest like it was a drum, and I could only hear the muffled electronic and rapping. It didn’t make sense one bit but with how Ymir danced it didn’t need to. 

I never saw someone dance so—so passionately as if it was just a way of life. 

Her footwork was exact and made with impact. Every part of her body was synchronized and fluid to what I heard. When the bass spiked so did every movement she made. 

It was tantalizing. 

A school made for the proper and yet she danced. When told to stay calm and posh she made the world stiff and bland for expecting such austere standards. She was the definition of life as I watched her, taken by surprise. 

It was like I swallowed a star as I choked on the heat and pain that swelled in my chest. 

She was turning towards my direction, swirling her hips. 

They were slow but deep circles, forced to work—  
“SHIT!” 

And she came undone, falling over her own deft feet like a spring fawn. She tumbled to the ground with a loud bang and then scrambled about, slipping and sliding and then bear-crawling to the stereo and turning it off with a panicked expression. 

It was so goddamn hot in here. There was no fan and it had so many windows and—

“GET OUT!” 

I tried to keep my gaze away from her but I was forced to look back. She was glaring at me, trying to get up but she kept tripping over herself. 

“OUT! OUT! NOW! KRISTA, YOU LITTLE SHIT!” 

I squeaked and ran out as she charged after me. I clumsily pulled the door open and darted out through the space before it closed with a clank. I sped out of there as I heard the door open. 

“DON’T EVER COME BACK!” She roared and it echoed through the halls and into my fuzzy mind.

**-x-x-x-**

“You are my Cinderella,” Reiner rehearsed. I sat on the sofa he stood in front of me, holding my hand.

I smiled as it said in the script. He leaned down but kept his lips inches away from my hand, pretending to kiss it and then huffed, scratching his face and rereading the lines. 

“A kiss on the hand?” He flopped down beside me. I found the line and looked at him, wondering what he didn’t like about it. 

“That seems… stiff. I’d rather have it that they just look at each other with smiles. A kiss on the hand seems so…formal.” 

I had to agree with him. It would leave a lot better ending if they just looked at each other’s eyes. 

“You’re right,” I told him. 

I had always read all the fairytales growing up whether it was Grimm’s or not. To have it butchered down to a simple kiss on the hand was painful and did not do justice to the nights I stayed up dreaming of the ‘happily ever afters’. 

“Here, like this, right?” I situated myself to face him as I got back into character. 

Reiner too my hands into his and looked into my eyes. 

“You are my Cinderella,” he told me. I smiled, never tearing my eyes away from him and I took my hands from his and brought them to his face, cupping his face. 

Reiner’s face went red as he watched. 

I cleared my throat, glancing at the script, telling him to go further. 

“U—Um, I—Will you marry me?” 

I nodded, brushing my thumb against the tip of his ear and hair. 

His eyes bulged and he pulled away. 

“Whoa, I’m sold, I’m sold, when are we getting married?” He asked, joking, but I knew he really was enjoying himself. 

It didn’t feel wrong either to do that with him. 

“Good.” I put my script onto the coffee table. 

“We’ve learned all our lines and everything. Just need to bring it up with Armin and we’re set,” he coughed as if trying to lodge something out of his throat. 

“The play is next Friday… Thirty minutes after homecoming game…” 

Right. 

I had to witness all the boys gushing over potential dates and the girls doing the same. I was in the small crowd that sadly included Hitch—the ‘I could care less’ crowd. The last time I went to those sort of dances—

“So?” Reiner’s face was stressed as I blinked, shaking my head a little. 

“What?”

“I—did…did you hear me?”

“No?”

“I—Did…you have a date to homecoming…?” Reiner asked, licking his lips. 

“No… I don’t like dances.” I told him truthfully but my mind plunged back into earlier today. Seeing Ymir dance wasn’t like the old dances or slow dances I watched. It wasn’t the Charleston or anything like that…

Ymir’s dance was… earthly and natural… It was something that illustrated life and fire. It was warm and full of passion. 

“Oh.” Reiner’s voice brought me back again. Disappointment was heavily on his tongue as he looked at the ground and went to gathering his supplies. 

“You know,” he huffed, “if you don’t like me…you can just be open about it.”

It was about liking him?

I didn’t know that liking someone was exclusive to going to dances and announcing it to the world. 

“Reiner… what do you want me to say?” I was tired of enjoying his company one moment and then him being bashful and embarrassed and skittish. I wanted to enjoy time with him—I wanted him to continue being Reiner. Not that muck of an emotional mess because infatuation hit him too hard. 

“Anything.” Reiner confessed, desperate. He put his stuff back down and stared at me. He held his hands out, emphasizing the emptiness between us. 

“You haven’t told me anything since I told you I liked you… I feel like you’re messing with me.” 

“So you want my honesty?”

“Yes! Please!”

“I don’t like how you get…I like when you are you, but when someone says something remotely to do about us being together you get weird… You run away or you stutter a lot as if someone said they saw you naked… I don’t understand that and it makes me confused like you’re embarrassed that someone said that… It makes me feel like you’re embarrassed of me.” 

He quickly shook his hands in protest. 

“No! No! That’s not it at all, Historia! I—I” he schooled himself quickly, “I am embarrassed of myself! You never said whether you liked me, too, so it’s like…like people are rubbing my nose in it and you have to put up with it!”

I stared at him and he smiled then chuckled. 

“I’m not embarrassed of you at all, Historia.”

“You sure… you never invited me to your house.” I always saw friends and more get invited over, but Reiner always insisted to come over. 

“Because my parents are embarrassing! That’s something to be embarrassed about!” He explained. 

It didn’t make too much sense, but I guess it could be true. From the weeks of being close, I heard his parents were average and loving… Nothing to be ashamed of. If not envied. 

Speaking of… Father hadn’t been home in two weeks… his calls got less and less, too. He told me he’d try to make it back for the play, said he wouldn’t miss it for the world, but Armin said that the very same world always came first before them. 

So that was that. 

“…Do you like me, though?”

Again, I kept getting lost in my head. 

“I… don’t know.” I really didn’t. 

“That’s not a no,” Reiner was trying to be positive. That was his strong point I admired. 

“I don’t know how you’d be like if we were together.” I attempted to explain but it was hard to translate thoughts into words. Especially if a lot of my emotions couldn’t be labeled into one thing. 

“How about this—“Reiner’s grin turned something stupid—“I will treat you the way I’d treat you as my girlfriend until the play, alright? No kisses or hugs unless asked, cool?” 

He made it sound so easy. He made it seem like he was going to do his best and I understood that heartfelt plea in his eyes for me to agree to it. 

Only a bad girl would ever decline such sincere feelings. 

“Okay… I’ll try that.” 

He said he’d treat me like a princess. If he was telling the truth, I will know after this weekend. 

“I promise I will treat you like a princess, I promise.”

 _A promise._

“Please,” _please keep your promises._


	24. And There You Are

Reiner didn’t lie. 

He truly kept his promise. 

The school week went by fast with rehearsals in the auditorium, setting up the backdrops and coordinating the lights. The speaker system had to be dealt with, too, but volunteers from the various music clubs made the difference. 

Every day leading up to the play Reiner had brought me flowers, complimented me more often, and would give me parts of his lunch that he thought I’d like. He was a gentleman through and through to my own surprise. 

I guess the past had me skittish from promises.  
I had never realized how tense I was until Reiner proved to me I had nothing to worry about. He never purposely put me in bad situations. He was thick-skulled as Jean and Armin would say. 

“How’re you feeling?” He asked the night before the play. 

Reiner had invited me to his house while his parents were gone. We sat out in the living room as he tuned his guitar, watching some show that I didn’t care much for. His house was modest compared to my father’s, but it was homely. It had knick-knacks on the shelves and personal photos instead of portraits. 

“Nervous,” I smiled a little, staring down at my hands, watching them shake a little. I had never stood in front of so many people before. 

“Me, too… To be honest, my father didn’t really want me to be a part of it. Said I needed to focus on football.” Reiner huffed, strumming and then shaking his head, retuning once more. 

“Really?” It didn’t seem too concerning but the way Reiner glared at his guitar told otherwise. 

“Yeah… He used to play football a lot. I guess he’s just looking out for me… but, you know, I can figure things out myself, too, you know?” 

I didn’t understand. I never had someone looking out and telling me to take certain classes or to avoid afterschool activities. I grew up with only a curfew to be back by. My grandparents and mother could care less what I did in that time otherwise practically. 

“I suppose… but you sound upset…”

“Well, this isn’t the first time,” Reiner sighed, “Bertolt really liked music class. He doesn’t sing well but he was so excited all the time about it. I wanted to hang with him more because he’s my best friend so I brought the flier back… and my dad told me no and signed me up for peewee football.” Reiner sat his guitar down, unable to concentrate any further. 

I didn’t know his father was strict, but I didn’t see the reasoning behind it. 

“Why did he do that?”

“Because… I don’t know? He just… He doesn’t think music club is ‘manly’ and shit.” Reiner muttered. 

I knew cheerleading and football practically gender-exclusive, but I didn’t think music club was like that. I thought it was for everyone.  
“But music club isn’t like that… it’s something anyone can enjoy.”

“Exactly! He said only boys who weren’t good at football looked at other things. Said to join football… I don’t know. I get him and he’s fine, you know, I like my dad, but sometimes I don’t understand why he’s so anal about football.” 

As if to prove a point he gestured to the wall where all of Reiner and his father’s trophies of football were. Among them was merchandise of their favorite football team. 

“Maybe he thinks you’d like it,” I offered but I didn’t see the fuss about it. 

It seemed nice to have someone so involved. 

It almost made me envious that his father so earnestly wanted him to do things with him and share a hobby. 

I glanced away at the ground, watching in the corner of my eye as Reiner picked his guitar back up, resuming what he was doing earlier. 

“I guess but it’s too much. I know what I want to do. I’m not a little kid anymore.” Reiner grumbled. 

We were only fourteen but I understood what he said. 

Everyone said we were young and still kids, especially the teachers. 

But it felt like these past few months were decades wearing down on my shoulders, chipping away at my resolve of being unable to figure out who I was, trying to find somewhere I belonged, and, most of all, doing my best to pretend I was normal. 

It should have been easier, I thought, to start new but I was still at the same place as I was before. 

The bullies had left but their shadows became a part of me. They had infested my mind with their voices that came during the night and whenever I felt anxious. 

Every day was filled with anxiety only buried deep under the mask people found so lovely. 

“Four more years and we’ll be on our own…definitely not kids.” Reiner remarked once more. 

“Yeah.”

Was it possible to feel too old when you were so young?

**-x-x-x-**

Each minute felt endless as my eyes kept watching the clock tick away, reminding me it was another moment closer tonight.

Closer to the play. 

I couldn’t sit still any longer in the club room. Armin told me to take it easy and just stick around after school, rehearse a bit while we waited for Reiner to get back a bit before the play began, but it was hectic in the halls. Dozens of students were painting last bits of the backdrops and the music club was running about with different wiring and speakers, trying to find something to replace a faulty piece of equipment. 

Every sound, every breath, and every step was earth shatteringly loud in my ears. 

I couldn’t take it. 

I had to get out of there.

My hands were getting sweaty, my stomach kept dropping and churning. I briskly walked through the academy but no matter where I went there was people. 

No.

No. 

I need to find somewhere quiet and safe. Collect my thoughts and sanity. 

I wandered off until I found the stairwell. I went in there, hoping to find solitude, but instead it smelled like cigarettes and two art students were painting with something musty for the play. I sighed, ascending the stairs until there was nothing left but a door to the roof. 

I touched the handle, pushing it and it surprisingly opened. 

The fresh air came gushing in as I darted outside, reveling in the peace and quiet, eyes closed.

But the moment I opened them I was greeted with something I didn’t want to see. 

Never thought I’d ever see it. 

Hitch had a cigarette in her hand, ignored.

She was on the tip of her toes, reaching. 

Her lips were flush on Ymir’s. 

They were close together, leaning against a fence on the roof. 

All was quiet for a moment before Hitch pulled away, staring up at Ymir and then she began to laugh. 

Ymir shook her head and joined her in laughing. 

They were kissing.

They had kissed. 

Ymir glanced over at me and then she straightened up, shocked. 

Hitch looked at me, too, and gasped, throwing the cigarette down and stamping it out. 

“H-Historia! What’re you doing up here? Did Armin send you?!” Hitch rapidly shot the questions at me but I didn’t answer. 

I couldn’t believe what I saw—two girls kissing.

No.

Ymir kissing someone.

It was strange. It felt off like someone cut a vital piece out of a painting. 

“Hey, um,” Ymir went towards me and I felt my feet move even though my mind wasn’t working. 

I turned around and went back inside. 

Any sounds or anxieties I had were slapped out of me from what I saw. 

Kissing.

Kissing. 

Two girls kissing. 

Ymir kissing. 

I only got two steps down before the door swung open behind me. 

“Historia, wait, are you okay?” Ymir’s voice echoed through the stairwell.

I stopped. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

How could I react?

Was Ymir gay? I didn’t really know. 

Sometimes girls kissed, right? 

But it didn’t make her any different—Ymir was Ymir and I—

“I’m fine… are you okay?” I asked. I didn’t want to look at her though. I didn’t want to think of what I saw. 

I didn’t want to believe Ymir was closer to someone than how I was with her. 

She was supposed to be my friend. 

For someone to just come up and take that spot—

“Y-yeah, I’m fine, okay, I think, but, uh…What you saw—“

“It’s fine.” I assured her. 

“…Is it?”

“Yeah.”

“…Historia, you don’t sound fine…”

“I’m okay. See?” I turned towards her, smiling brightly and she flinched. She glanced at the ground, scuffing her shoe against the floor. 

“…Look, I know that—“

“Ymir… It’s fine… I won’t tell anyone.”

Ymir’s eyes widened and then she sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. 

“Historia, it’s not like that. It really isn’t.”

“Ymir, you don’t have to lie. I won’t tell. I promise.”  
I kept my promises. 

I would keep hers a secret, too. 

Ymir seemed to perk up at that and she smiled but it felt awful. 

Something washed over me as I snapped my head back, glaring at her. 

My mind clouded darkly— _Promise, promise, and promise._

Nobody kept them for my sake. 

No, it was not fine! 

None of this was fucking fine! I felt awful all the time. 

She didn’t deserve the mercy of not knowing how fucking pissed I was!

“I keep my promises unlike you!” I seethed, tearing away from her, descending the stairs, leaving her with my words, hoping they hurt her for all those times she pained me. 

“Historia, please!” Ymir called out and she was chasing after me down the stairwell. 

“Can we please talk? Please!” 

I raced down it, glancing behind me as she desperately followed. 

“Talk about what!? How you’re sorry and that you didn’t mean your promise?!” I asked, unable to hold back the words that were spilling through the cracks. 

“Yes! No! Yes!” She groaned. 

“Please, let’s talk about it! I know I’m an asshole! I know I say things wrong, but, fuck, Historia, I’m sorry! I really mean it! I don’t say sorry just to say it!” She was catching up as we neared the bottom, leaving the two art students staring up at us with curiosity and shock. 

“No! You’re only going to hurt me!”

“Historia, I never really wanted to hurt you! I—I said those bad things because—Well, because I’m a fucking asshole, but I know better—shit, I’m sorry! Come on!” 

I reached the bottom and she bumped into me, pressing me against the door, breathing heavily, staring down at me. 

“Historia…Krista…Krista…” 

“Don’t even,” I hissed at her, tears threatening to fall down my face. 

“Why are you being so—“

“I said no. I won’t let you push me around anymore.”

How many nights did I stay up, restless, wondering where Ymir lived, how she was doing, and how it’d be to be friends again? 

How many times did I get bullied and wished Ymir was there to fight them off and smile at me like she did?

The countless moments I spent daydreaming of having only one friend in the world to help me, one who promised to always be there for me, but she was gone. 

Gone. 

Never there.

And then she’s there when I need her the most. She comes in like a light but it’s a fake. She stole it away from me, she held it above my head, reminding me of what I hoped for and that I wouldn’t get it. 

She had her chance to be my friend and protect me like how when we were kids, but she lost that chance. She broke me over her own promise like a doll. 

No. 

“Krista—“

“Leave me alone.” I pressed my back fuller against the door, pushing it open and leaving it to slam in her face. 

Just like the reminder of the starry twilight on the Ferris wheel.

**-x-x-x-**

I was a wreck, a mess, but I held onto my wits with a smile.

I reread my lines and they were crystal clear in my head as chaos ensued around me as everyone raced to meet the final deadlines as the clock ticked. 

“How’re you holding up?” Armin asked, putting an arm on my shoulder before frowning. 

“Whoa, you’re hella tense.” He muttered, withdrawing it.

“Nervous?”

“I—I feel kind of sick to my stomach.” I told him, cracking a bit more but I managed to smile to my own amazement. All I wanted to do was rush home and lock myself into my room and pretend that reality was a dream and that I was somewhere else. 

“Oh, that’s normal! It’s called stage fright! But I know you’ll do good!” He told me, trying his best to comfort before being dragged away to approve the final products for his play. 

I cleared my throat, blocking the world out again, and said my lines under my breath. 

I could remember them. It was easy. All I had to do was focus on that alone. Everything else just didn’t matter anymore. 

That was right. 

I closed my eyes, lifting my head from my script, and looked forward. 

Ymir was across the room, staring at me, frowning, but she was then ushered away by the music club to finish the wiring for something. 

I felt like I was going to vomit. 

Anger, regret, sadness, loneliness, numbness—I felt everything but nothing at the same time. 

It felt like no matter what happened to me that it wouldn’t matter. That I was so vulnerable yet invincible at the same time. 

Just there.

Nothing more.

Maybe not even here. 

“Reiner!”

I slowly glanced to the right of me, seeing Reiner being rushed by the makeup artists and costume designers to freshen up from his football game. 

“We won!” He yelled and everyone cheered, clapping for him as Bertolt followed after him, patting his back, grinning widely. 

Reiner searched until he found me. He waved, smiling, and I returned it with as much enthusiasm as everyone was for the win. 

When he disappeared, I exhaled. 

One. 

Two.

Three.

I slowly counted, stabilizing my breath. It felt like it was cut too short but if I waited it was way too long. It felt erratic but I knew it was normal. 

Everything was off. 

Everything. 

I held my stomach, queasy. 

“Show time in thirty minutes!” Armin yelled, forcing the crew to pick up their pace once more. 

-x-x-x-

It was like I was at home. 

I was on my hands and knees, scrubbing the floor, listening to my ‘sisters’ and ‘mother’ belittle me. 

However, the irony wasn’t lost—I was pretending to be at home instead of somewhere else. 

I was forced to actually believe and deal with what I had bottled away. 

“Useless! She’d never do anything!”

“She’s just pretty! Nothing more!” 

I had to stay in character. 

And that character was meant to take the abuse. 

I stiffened up but I kept scrubbing. 

Pretend to be here but not really here—it wasn’t making sense anymore. 

It was all a delirious, sickly soup in my stomach as a crowd of people watched from the seats below the stage, judging how I acted, eyes never leaving my body, observing every move. 

It felt wrong. 

_I wasn’t here._

_It doesn’t exist if I believe it won’t._

I blocked out what they said, knowing I didn’t have any lines except ‘Yes, mistress’ and ‘yes, ma’am’. 

The scene was over quickly but not without it taxing me even further. I grimaced as the lights dimmed and I was ushered off the scene as the backdrops changed quickly for the next part. 

Nobody questioned my troubled expression. 

Why didn’t they?

Maybe they thought it was fine. 

I must be fine. 

Behind scenes it was completely chaos as everyone raced, moving props and pushing in new ones.

It was a blur. 

Or was I not thinking right?

“Go, go,” Armin shoved me back out and I came out quickly putting on my smile. 

I stared out in the crowd as expected. 

I didn’t mean to, I really didn’t mean it, but I glanced where Armin had reserved a front row seat for father, but he was not there. 

Just a lone piece of paper with Rod Reiss written on them. 

_Not important._

_I wasn’t important._

_Just play a role._

I swept through each one as required, dancing and singing where I needed to, charming anyone who dared looked my way, because that was expected of me. 

.  
.  
.

“Cinderella! You are ugly! A disgrace! Nobody loves you!” The Step-mother cackled. 

No.

Hitch who was playing the step-mother laughed at my face. 

Memories of my mother pushing me away, slapping my face, shoving and locking me in my room, screaming and reminding me I was never once wanted—I shivered and looked back beyond the set, finding Armin in the shadows. 

I felt tears swell in my face and Armin smiled, putting a thumb up for my performance. 

It was too real. 

It wasn’t good. 

No.

No. 

Stop. 

I felt the sisters descend upon me, shoving me around and ripping me from my clothes, stripping me from the lone shield I had against the crowd. 

I felt so bare and violated.

No—I would not think.

I will not remember. 

Pretend. 

Hold. 

I stared up into the crowd, feeling my tears roll down and some people gasped, nodding in approval. 

My pain was entertainment, wasn’t it?

Just there for amusement. 

Like drama on the news. 

.  
.  
.  
The scene was now at the most memorable part—Cinderella running from the Prince, losing her shoe. 

“Wait!”

No. 

Nobody can force me to do anything—white flashes of painful memories kept coming back and I nearly cried out when Reiner’s grip took my arm. 

“I don’t even know your name!” 

He didn’t know my name either, but that didn’t stop him from touching me. 

I ripped my arm away. 

“I—I’m sorry! I have to go!”

Why was I always the one suffering for everyone’s terrible choices and decisions? 

Why did I have to apologize and give in when people mistreated me?

Maybe because I was never worth it.

Meant to get hurt. 

I couldn’t hold it back anymore as I hiccupped and began to bawl. 

“H-Hey,” Reiner immediately realized what happened, chasing after me once more but I was already halfway off the stage, going behind the set. 

For all my clumsiness one of my heels caught on the cords, ripping them from their sockets and all the lights went out on the stage. 

People were panicking, unable to see to change the props. 

“Historia!” Reiner called out. 

“What’s wrong?” Armin asked, unaware. 

“Something’s not right! She’s not okay! She’s not okay!” He barked and I heard everyone calling for me, but I didn’t look back. 

Everyone was using me. 

I was only meant to get hurt. 

If that was true, wouldn’t it have been better if I was never born?

Or maybe even died. 

_It isn’t too late to end it now._

**-x-x-x-**

“The show is taking a small break! Please feel free to go enjoy the concessions and use the bathroom!” Hitch’s voice went over the intercom as the viewers were none the wiser to the insanity as everyone was racing about, trying to find Historia.

“Where is she!? Maybe she went outside!?” Reiner seethed, panicking. 

“Maybe! Go check! We can’t find her anywhere! Nowhere!”  
“Let’s go check! Come on, Armin!” Reiner bolted past Ymir, glaring at her, and then leaving the emergency exit with the shorter blond. 

“What’s going on?” Ymir asked, walking up to Hitch who looked stressed. 

“Historia… she—Reiner said she broke down crying and ran away and then she set off the lights and now we’re ten minutes in and without her! We’re going to have to cancel if things don’t clear up soon!” Hitch bit her lip. 

“Do you think it was our fault? When she came up there—she looked so hurt…” Hitch muttered but Ymir shook her head, patting her back. 

“Just go look for her. I’ll help.” 

With that, Hitch went with another group of students to check the club hallways. 

Hardly anyone was on the set anymore in search for Historia. They had looked everywhere already in the general area. 

Ymir crossed her arms, feeling guilt and shame wash over her. 

What if Hitch was right that it was their fault? 

“Fuck,” she kicked the ground. She looped around the sets, overlooking where people had been. The backdrops and props were all stacked against a wall with little to no space between them except for where they leaned. 

Ymir frowned, peering at them, looking over their paintjobs until she came upon the recent ones—the pumpkin patch. 

Each pumpkin was drawn and painted so carefully. She could even see the little splotches—a quiet sniffle came from them. 

Ymir stopped, frozen, listening. 

Another sob. 

She went around the pumpkin patch to where they leaned against the wall, looking at the small crack there. She would’ve thought it’d be impossible for any small person to fit between them. 

“…Krista?”

There was a gasp. 

“…Krista… I know you’re back there…”

She crouched down and peered inside, seeing only darkness, but her eyes adjusted and slowly saw the outline of the missing Cinderella. 

“Krista…are you okay?”

There wasn’t a response.

“Krista… come out…people are very worried for you.” Ymir told her, hoping she’d listen but she only heard her shuffle back further. 

Ymir cleared her throat, looking away for a moment to see if anyone else was around, but nobody was. 

“Krista… what’s wrong? You can tell me… I won’t tell anyone.”

“N-No… get away…”

“Krista,” Ymir stopped, feeling nostalgia wash over her. This felt so reminiscent of when they were at the fair and when Sasha found her nestled between the stalls, crying, and scared. 

She was scared. 

Oh. 

Ymir eased a smile for her. 

“Remember when we first met…?”

Krista stiffened at the sound of it. Ymir could see and sense it because she no longer heard heavy breathing. 

“Sasha found you…and you looked scared… I… I thought you looked so pretty, ha-ha,” Ymir rubbed the back of her neck, nervous, “and that it was a shame someone or something made a pretty girl cry so much…

“You were clumsy, too…still are if the lights are anything to go by.” Ymir grinned something stupid while snickering. 

“But, either way, I remember back then, Krista… you were scared and lost… I helped you find your way back, though, remember? I do… and, I also remember the Ferris wheel…

“Krista, I know you remember that, too, because I made you a promise… I also shook the box so much you got scared and cried… I went too far but I was truly sorry… It’s the same now, Krista… I—“Ymir choked on her own words as she rocked on the ball of her heels. 

“I act stupid sometimes…really shitty… I really do… There’s no apology for that…but, I want you to know that, yeah, I remember our promise… we both promised we’d be there for each other, because you were abused back at home and my mom was in jail…We promised to be each other’s friends and be happy… It was a good promise, Krista, real good… And, if you will let me, and forgive me, I… I really want to keep that promise…I want to try again...”

Ymir sought Krista’s approval but it was still silence. 

“You don’t have to be scared… I’m here… I—I still care about you, Krista… You’re still my friend…my only friend here…” Ymir told her, showing Krista that she was vulnerable, too. That she wasn’t the only one that had things to lose. 

Quietly, Ymir held out her hand into the darkness like she did so many years ago to a scared girl. 

She knew what she had done wasn’t right.

That she had hurt Krista more than she should have. 

They were both alone here in this new school.

Nobody who knew where they came from, pretending to be okay with that. 

“I’m here with you now, Krista… Don’t be scared.” 

And fire met fire, hand in hand. 

“Y-you promise?”

“I promise.”


	25. Dance With Me Now

Ymir’s hand was calloused but warm as she gently helped me out of my hideout. Once I was out, she took her hand away. I averted my gaze to look at her shoulder now. It really was all I could see as she stooped, dusting me off, eyes low but flicking back up every now and then. When our eyes caught she would give me a small, silly smile with a chuckle dying inside her throat. 

I never realized till now how much taller she got than me. 

The memory of me being to her neck was distant as I stood only up to her shoulder. 

“There,” she pulled her hands away, examining me once more before nodding, “not as bad…” 

I barely could bring myself to look back up at her, because I knew I had tears in my eyes and my gut knotted and twisted at just knowing someone saw me vulnerable. I didn’t want to be known as the girl who ran away crying. 

I didn’t want people to see what was wrong with me. 

I looked back down at the ground. 

“Hey,” her hand went to my shoulder, hesitating, but when I didn’t brush it off she kept it there, followed by her other on the opposite, “hey… you going to be okay?” 

I wasn’t sure—I felt terrible but it wasn’t bad. 

Her hands were really warm. They reminded me of when Papa would warm up my hands by the noisy heater in the barn. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” she repeated, giving me a crooked smile, “it’s fine to not know.”

It was like she could read my mind. 

Was I that obvious?

“B-But the play—“

“Fuck the play. It isn’t like we’re winning cash or being nominated for awards,” Ymir scoffed, patting my shoulder and standing up straight. 

“I—“I really didn’t want to continue it but I was committed to it…  
“Don’t tell me you actually want to do it still?” She frowned. 

I didn’t. 

I only stayed still, squeezing myself, trying to jolt the weakness out of me. 

I was stupid for getting so emotional. 

Everyone probably thought I was—  
“Historia!” 

I shot my head to the side to see Reiner and Armin coming back, panting. The rest of the crew were following behind, relieved to see me. 

“Historia! What’s wrong?!” Reiner asked, running up to me, staring at me with worry. He glanced to Ymir, glaring. 

“What are—“

“I found her.” Ymir was ready to step back but Armin was by my side, wiping my tears away. 

“Oh, good! We should redo your makeup! Are you alright? Think you can go on?” Armin asked, already pushing me away, but a strong hand took my hand. 

“Like hell she is,” Ymir pulled me back, startling Armin. 

“H-huh?” 

“She obviously isn’t comfortable with it! Let her be.”

“A-ah, is that true?” Armin looked at me, concerned. 

Now everyone knew. 

I felt terrible that I dragged it on for so long. I wish I had the courage to tell them how I truly felt—I tried but they didn’t listen. 

“Historia…?” Reiner followed up. 

“You can tell them how you feel,” Ymir growled. It was like her to be rough around the edges, but sincere. 

Just like long ago…

It was Ymir by my side. 

Protecting me. 

“I—I’m sorry,” I couldn’t look at them when I was able to speak up. 

“I—“

“No, it’s fine, it’s fine,” Armin intervened, nodding. He quickly squared his shoulders, staring at his nervous, uncertain crew. 

“We will find a way! The show will go on! Reiner, get ready! You have a scene coming up!”

“W-What?! But she said—“

“We will make due! Show me the available girls!” 

I didn’t get to stick around as Ymir brought me to the changing room, letting me undress from the costume and back into my school uniform. When I was done she was leaning against the wall, waiting, and pushed off of it to walk with me, leading me outside and away from the auditorium.  
We were alone now as she slowly strolled by me, staring ahead. 

But it wasn’t as pleasant as I thought it was going to be. 

I had so many questions to ask. 

The image of her and Hitch kissing made me nervous because we both knew I saw. And seeing girls kiss wasn’t normal. 

“Hitch and I,” she easily picked up on the atmosphere as I flinched. 

“I’m sorry…”

“Hey, no need to apologize, alright? It isn’t like you were meaning to catch us.” Ymir sighed, rubbing her neck, cheeks tinting pink. 

“We were going up there for a smoke…I’m trying to quit. Hitch doesn’t plan to… she was teasing me about trying to do good and shit…and, well, she said she wanted to try something.” Ymir shrugged but I felt like it was something more. 

“She kissed me. She says she’s bisexual but it means nothing. I don’t like her that way.” Ymir mumbled. 

It didn’t clear anything up but I didn’t think Ymir would’ve been the one to smoke. I disliked the smell of it—mother and grandmother did it a lot. 

“…You don’t like her?” I asked. 

I wanted to know if she liked girls at all, because why would Hitch kiss her if Ymir didn’t? It’d be a terrible thing to do. 

Not that Hitch was exactly the best person about respecting someone…

“No.” Ymir scoffed, laughing a little. 

“…do you like girls?” I might as well just outright and ask it. 

Ymir snorted, laughing even more. I didn’t know why she was but I ended up smiling despite how tense I felt. 

“Hm. I don’t know—maybe. Boys are kind of… well, most boys are kind of gross. I mean, why would I want them to put their floppy dick in me?” 

My eyes went wide as I felt my face turn red. 

Ymir snickered as I realized she said that for a reaction. 

“You’re the worst,” I told her, fanning my face, trying to regain my composure as she giggled more. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she stuffed her hands into her pockets as we rounded the building, heading towards the gardens. 

Despite the lewd conversation, I felt more comfortable the further and further we got away from the play and everyone. Ymir was easy to be around because I didn’t have to say much. She just knew. 

“How about you—like big gorillas? You know that’s illegal to be into bestiality—Ah!” Ymir held her arm in feigned pain from where I jabbed at it. 

“He’s not a gorilla.” I defended him. Certainly, he was thick skulled and not the brightest, but he was a good guy. 

“Really, though, why do you let him slobber after you? He’s so bulky and gross,” Ymir huffed, unhappy at the mention of him. 

“He isn’t hurting anyone,” I told her but she raised an eyebrow at me. 

“You’re not going out then?” 

I didn’t know how to respond to that. I was conflicted myself. 

I hadn’t been close with anyone for a long time, but I knew he was a welcomed friend. 

“No…He wants to though.”

She made it easy to talk.  
It was like she never left in the first place. 

“And? How’re you going to let him down?” Ymir asked. 

“…I don’t know how…”

Ymir didn’t laugh or snicker or suggest that I do anything harsh. She only nodded. 

I honestly didn’t know whether it would be any different to date him. Holding hands or a hug wasn’t bad, but I don’t know if I could like kissing. 

“So do you like boys?” She picked up the conversation and I frowned. 

Why did I have to like anyone right now?

I didn’t feel like I had that connection with anyone. I wasn’t close enough with people and I didn’t quite trust anyone that much. 

A relationship would be pointless…

“I don’t like anyone.” I told her. 

“…Nobody at all? Not even Armin or me?”

“No, not like that,” I smiled and she grinned back, lightly bumping her shoulder against me, earning one back. 

“I meant that… I don’t like anyone… I can’t see myself liking anyone.” I was never close with anyone. 

Plus, who’d want to be with me?

_Useless, worthless, waste of space, whore—_

“Really?” Ymir hummed, shrugging. 

“Maybe that’s true, maybe not.” 

“Huh?”

“I mean…feelings change, right?”

I guess they could but it didn’t seem like something that’d ever change. 

“Maybe.”

Ymir smiled and we finally made our way into the garden as the sun was gone, leaving the world room to finally breathe from its heat. The late twilight filled the air with sweet smells of the closing flowers and early autumn air. 

She sat at one of the many stone benches along the dirt path, relaxing and spreading her legs out like a boy would. I sat next to her, crossing mine. 

“Ymir…?”

“Hm?”

I still had questions that I kept putting off because I was scared to ask her before, but I felt like I could now. 

Just ask…

“Why…why’re you in my class?” I glanced at her and saw her face show no sign of surprise. 

“You’re a year older than me…You should be a sophomore, right?” 

“Yeah, I should, but I got flunked.” Ymir shrugged. 

She didn’t seem like she struggled with school. 

“…C-Can I ask why?” I ventured, pushing my luck and possibly her patience. Ymir smiled, showing it was fine. 

“You wouldn’t want to know.” She shrugged. 

“…but I do…”

“Oh yeah? What if I said it’d make you scared?” 

I didn’t like how she said that. 

The solar powered garden lights turned on and her teeth glinted in a terrible smile. 

“…W-What?” I didn’t like she was avoiding the question. 

“Do you still want to know?” Ymir asked, putting her right hand into her left, cracking her knuckles. 

“…Yes…”

It would hurt to not know and I didn’t want to base our friendship off lies. I wanted to know all of Ymir. 

Even the bad things. 

Ymir stared right into my eyes, locking me into the conversation and forcing me to hold my breath. 

She licked her lips. 

_Snap._

Her knuckles did it again. 

“I was sent to juvenile.” Ymir shook her head, smiling. She lifted her hand from her fist, pointing it in front of her and shaping it into a mock-gun.

“All I want to do is bang, bang, bang,” she said in a way that made me feel like I heard it before. 

“…you shot someone?” I asked. My mouth was going dry because I didn’t want to think Ymir would do that. She was my friend—she protected me. 

“No,” she huffed, “but I did stab someone.” 

Oh. 

“See?” Ymir was facing me again. That bitter smile on her face. 

“I knew you’d think less of me. You know, I mean, I should’ve saw it coming, but it’s fine if you want to leave—“

“Why…why did you do it?” I asked and she froze up. She stared at me as if I had told her someone died. 

She glimpsed away and unknown words were choked in her. I only knew that because her mouth opened and closed and nothing came out but sighs. 

I let her take her time as I sat, watching her, and she brought a hand up, itching her cheek. 

“June sixteenth…” was all I got out of it and she shook her head, inhaling, and wiping her eyes. 

Was she about to cry?

I didn’t know because she turned away from me. 

“Because I had to.” She said without much else. 

The anxieties I had from before were less now. I couldn’t describe why—maybe it was because she shocked me or maybe it was because she was one of the first people I saw so vulnerable. I saw myself in her, scared, and uncertain as to what to say. 

She was like me. 

“Ymir…?”

“Yeah?” Her voice was gruff but I knew it was her way of trying to be strong. I reached out, putting a hand on her shoulder. 

“…what?” She said again but glanced over at me, eyes lidded, and eventually falling to the ground. 

I didn’t know what to say to her because my words really meant nothing. I didn’t know what she was thinking and didn’t want to set her off or say something wrong. 

I leaned over, hugging her, because I remember her hugging me as kids and telling me it’d be okay. I remember how good that felt and when Papa gave me hugs to make me stop crying. 

She tensed up again and didn’t return it. 

“Krista…aren’t you afraid of me?”

“No.”

“But I hurt someone…I was sent to kiddy jail…” 

“I’m not afraid of you.” 

Shakily, she gave me a hug back. 

I wouldn’t tell anyone that I felt tears against my shoulder as her hands gripped into the back of my shirt, clinging like a scared child. 

I couldn’t explain it but I felt like I was not scared of anything when I around Ymir. 

.  
.  
.

_“I promise to protect you, Krista!”_

_Little fingers interlocked._

_“I-I p-promise to protect you, too, Ymir.”_


	26. Having You Tonight

**[Let's Get It Back by YNGCULT]**

"You're not coming back in?" I asked, stopping under the lamplight of the school.

Ymir was outside of it, hands stuffed in her pockets, and glancing towards the parking lot. The quiet tears from earlier were gone, leaving only a tint of pink on her cheeks.

"Nah. I don't really want to do clean up." She muttered.

I smiled at her.

It was just like her to be plain and honest.

No excuse.

Straight to the point.

…Ymir, Ymir, Ymir…

"Hah," Ymir caught my smile because she brought a hand out and rubbed the back of her neck, "yeah."

"So, if you're not going to come back…where are you going?" I asked because we were lingering—I didn't want her to leave.

"I have my car here. Probably drive home."

"Car?"

Right. She was sixteen.

"Yeah…So… I will catch you later…?" Ymir took a few steps back and I didn't know why she wouldn't let me go so fast.

It felt good, though, to know we both wanted to hang out more, but responsibility called.

"Wait," I went to her, pulling out my cellphone, "I will give you my number."

Oh.

Ymir was already by my side and glanced over to see Reiner had sent me three text messages. I glimpsed at the time to see the play only ended about ten minutes ago.

"Sure you two aren't dating?" She asked, frowning.

"No… we're not." I told her.

By now, I remembered my phone number after everyone in the club had repeatedly asked for it.

We exchanged our information and Ymir smiled.

"I will text you around then, huh?" She asked.

"Yeah." I grinned back up at her.

No stuttering.

No mask.

Just us.

"I will be seeing you around," Ymir turned halfway and glanced at me. She had something to say but she held it back and exchanged it for a warm smile before leaving off into the shadows.

I stayed by the door, watching where she left until I felt like her presence was no longer there.

I found a giggle almost bubbling up from my throat but it left when I turned, opening the door, and finding Reiner there, hand ready to reach out and grab the knob.

"Oh," he flushed, "there you are… I-I was worried—you didn't answer my texts and I—"

"I'm fine," I told him, feeling a little bad that I worried him.

"Oh, that's good! So, um, did you and Ymir…have a good talk?" He asked, looking down at his feet.

There was no malice in it.

Genuine care.

"We did," I smiled.

It hurt my cheeks to.

All those years of missing the only friend I had was fulfilled now.

"I can see that," he chuckled, pointing at his own smile to show he was amused at my happy face.

"I suppose she's not bad then?" He said, moving aside so I could come inside to help the others.

"No…she's not. Just…She's just Ymir." I waved at anyone who gave a concerned look at me. They seemed to beam back.

"Hm… I guess I will need to apologize," Reiner spoke, crossing his arms, "I feel bad now… that I was being…well, a dick."

It surprised me that he was so easy to change his opinion.

"You both were being difficult," I told him, hoping he wouldn't dwell on it too long, "I'm sure she'll understand."

"Think so?"

"I'm pretty sure."

"Historia!" Armin yelled.

My eyes went wide and I was frozen in place, gaping at him.

He came running over, clad in makeup and a dress. I shot a look to Reiner and he turned red, huffing.

"I'm glad you're okay!" He grinned, taking my hand.

"You look really happy right now!" He proclaimed.

"U—Uh—you too?"

I hadn't seen a boy dress up as a girl before except on silly cartoons.

"Oh? Oh! Aren't I pretty?" He laughed and I couldn't help but join with him as he took his hands away.

"There weren't any other blondes that'd fill the role… so I did!"

"He made a really good replacement. You two look a lot when he has make up." Bertolt came from the dressing room, smiling.

Reiner went crimson.

"Reiner even was surprised," Bertolt lightly teased as Reiner jabbed his arm.

"I just wanted to get it done and over with!"

I couldn't help but think—what of the kiss scene?

"…" I stared at Bertolt and Reiner and then to Armin.

Bertolt snickered, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck. Reiner just glanced between the two of us, wondering what was up.

Armin was the one to clarify to him as he laughed.

"We also did the kiss scene!"

Everyone who was nearby to hear laughed more as Reiner gritted his teeth.

I couldn't help the surprised hiccup in the back of my throat as laughter nearly overflowed.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding! I put my left hand over his mouth when we did it so it wasn't a real kiss," Armin waved Reiner's outrage away.

"Everyone knows it was fake, Reiner," Bertolt soothed, patting his back, but he didn't seem comforted. Not one bit.

"I'm sure it was a good scene," I attempted and it seemed to make him less fussy but he grumbled.

"Either way…how did you and Ymir go?"

"Huh?" I didn't realize people knew of the problems between us.

"Oh, please," Armin waved me off, too, like I was being too oblivious, "it was very obvious that you two had some history. C'mon, tell me what happened!"

"Um…we talked and it was nice…"

"Wow, so detail, much development." Armin huffed before going back to packing things off to the side. He glanced around, crossing his arms and yawned.

"Y'know what, we'll just go home and do this tomorrow… I really don't want to stay late…"

"Oh, thank God," I heard Hitch's relieved sigh. I glanced over to see her pull out her cellphone, dialing away, and then glancing around.

Was she looking for Ymir?

She then saw me and she only stared for a moment before smirking and winking.

.

.

What?

I felt something twinge inside of me—the kind of feeling I got when I heard girl's talking about me, or when I knew something bad was going to happen.

It set my stomach on fire.

I didn't like it.

No.

I didn't like her.

My face soured.

And she only grinned sweeter.

**-x-x-x-**

It was late into the night as I laid in my bed, staring at the ceiling.

My heart ached and my stomach was restless—anxiety at its best.

I kept repeating the few things Ymir and I spoke of.

The things that reconnected so perfectly like it was meant to be—laughter, smiles, and memories. It was meant to be that way.

I also thought of the play, the parts that made me feel worse…those still plagued me as I rubbed my eyes, unable to sleep it off.

I pulled more pillows around me, barricading myself in, and quickly peeking over to double-check that the door was locked.

What was I going to do…?

I thought of things.

Things I didn't quite understand and doubted I ever would.

My hand went low to the apex of my legs and I could feel myself there—throbbing.

I was restless.

I tried to relax in my bed, thinking of happier memories, of the bits of adult activities I skimmed over on the internet—what would it feel like?

My hand roved over the part that was incessant in its needs and felt it practically vibrating in desire. I put pressure there.

If I did this then I could go to sleep faster…

_Vbbbbbbtttttttt!_

I jumped, yanking my hand out of my shorts, and face flushed as I scrambled to my phone that went off.

Was it Ymir?

I turned it on and stared.

Reiner.

I felt disappointed.

Ymir had said she'd text me later, but it seemed it wasn't going to happen that way.

I opened his text message and was met with blocks of text.

What was this?

It was a jumbly mess of a confession, apologies, and hopeful things that led to the conclusion of this:

_Will you be my girlfriend?_

I sighed, running a hand over my face—

"Ugh."

It had to be the damp hand I was touching myself with.

I got up and stumbled to my bathroom to wash myself off.

I was still yearning—why was I feeling this way right now? I didn't have anything that set me off. I didn't even really get what I was totally supposed to do. It was just there…asking for me to fondle it, feel the sporadic pleasure here and there, but never resulting in anything that the books ever described.

Another text came to my phone on the counter.

I glanced.

Reiner.

I poked the message open, returning to cleaning myself off and throwing cold water on my face. I glanced up and saw my cheeks tinted red.

Is that what I looked like when I felt that way?

It wasn't what I thought it was.

Just me looking tired with rosy cheeks.

Nothing too interesting.

I wiped myself off with a nearby towel and read the message.

_I'm sorry that you have to deal with this._

Why was he apologizing?

Feelings were… feelings.

_But I hope to hear your answer soon._

What was I to say?

I didn't feel anything bad towards him, but I didn't feel excited or anything like what the books said that was 'love'.

I was just indifferent.

I held my phone up, nursing my bottom lip as my fingertips ghosted over the letters.

"What're you going to tell him?" Ymir asked.

.

.

.

**-x-x-x-**

Stupid.

Fucking stupid.

My forearm covered my eyes and my other was outstretched towards the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling.

I thought of home—I thought of my friends and my house and the beat-up truck and the fields that held countless adventure for me, Ilse, and Sasha as we grew up.

I thought of the night with her—it was always that night I thought of when I felt bad, when I felt hopeless.

I saw her surrounded by red, orange, and yellow lights. She was crowned with all the colors of the sunset as we went high above the world, away from everything, and out of reach from anything and everyone.

It was there that I never realized until recently how I felt.

I thought it was only about being friends and that we were what grandma called 'thick as thieves'.

But friends don't get stuck in your mind.

Friends don't make you want to be around them all the time. At least not this way.

I lowered my outstretched hand and rubbed it over my face. I was tired and wondering why I had lied to Krista.

God, why did I fucking lie?

I was so scared of her reaction. I just got her to forgive me and I didn't want her to think I was pathetic and weak.

So I lied that I was a smoker.

I only ever thought of it when I wanted something to fill what was empty inside—the lack of something great that everyone else had. A feeling of belonging, I guess, but who knew? I sure as hell didn't.

But, oh, I lied. I had lied when I wanted to be truthful.

What could I tell her?

That I was excited to get kissed by a girl for the first time?

That I thought Hitch was actually pretty alright?

That I actually wanted the kiss?

If I told her that then she'd think…

Hah.

She'd think that I was into Hitch.

So…

Why was that bad?

I felt myself laugh into the quiet, dark void of my room, hearing it echo back and mock me.

Because Krista was my very first crush from years ago.

One I didn't realize until this summer when I accepted that I liked girls.

"Shitty," I told myself, because I truly was a shitty person.

I lied to Krista, I told her I wanted to be friends, and I did all so well.

Why, why, why?

It wouldn't change anything if I told her I didn't mind Hitch in that way.

Maybe it was because I was still scared with being out.

Or, like I knew what it was all along, I found myself still smitten with the little pale hands that desperately held mine, the fragile smile that was broken a thousand and one ways but it only made the light shine brightest through the cracks.

Fuck.

"Shit."

I was so worthless.

Pining over someone like this without her knowing…

I was just as terrible as Reiner—thinking of Krista in such ways at night.

Drooling and predatory.

It made me sick.

I picked up my phone because that sickness was mingling with the desperation to reach out to her.

She was the one good thing that happened from this move. The thing that I got back when things I loved were taken from me.

I opened her contact.

'Hey.'

Delete.

'How're you?'

Delete.

'The play was pretty crappy, but you looked great.'

Fucking delete.

I put my phone down and rubbed my eyes again, wishing I could just turn off my emotions and get some peace.

But, there it went—my stomach doing backflips and my mind hazy with the fantasy of Krista smiling, Krista holding my hand—damn, she was so pretty now. She was still so fucking cute.

"It should be illegal!" I groaned, throwing a spare pillow at the wall.

"Illegal!"

Emotions were fucking stupid.

Just stamp them out.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, fucking stupid.

She was obviously for that gorilla Reiner—the fucking prick acting like she was already his and then pretending to be so innocent by stuttering and blushing. Yeah fucking right.

"Just let me sleep." I grabbed my second pillow, covering my own face, and attempted to suffocate my own emotions.

"Sleep." I begged.

But I couldn't.

When could I ever sleep now that she was always on my mind?

I promise.

.

.

.

Minutes went by as it felt like I held my breath that whole time, lingering only on how her hands fitted into mine despite the time that went by.

"Krista."

Her name was beautiful on my tongue—Kuh-riss-tah—Krista—Krista—Krisss-taah.

Her name was the sweetest poison of restless, bittersweet nights that I gave into.

I wonder if she ever thought of me at night—if she ever wondered about me more than friends.

Probably not.

I remember asking her and her plain but firm answers about relationships.

Probably never.


	27. Bonus Chapter

Sleep came quickly despite the anxieties of the play, Reiner, and Ymir.

I could only think of the past as I drifted.

.

.

.

What would've happened if we kept contact all this time?

.

.

.

"We're in deep shit, Lenz," Ymir's voice was raspy and gruff. She was hiding behind a car as I flinched from her words, peering behind the hood and through the windows, but I saw nobody.

The whole place was at a standstill.

It was quiet with only the sound of the dog howling and the wind sweeping through the field.

"HAAA!" An arrow sailed past my face and hit the car with a loud pop and thud. I gasped, staring at the stick rubber head as it dangled before the suction cup popped off.

"THEY FOUND US!" Ymir cried, grabbing my hand, and laughing as she dragged me through her grandparent's car graveyard. There had to easily be over twenty broken down cars—some rusted over, missing parts, and others recent with little to no apparent damage.

"Ilse! Get revenge on your sister!" Sasha said as Ilse knocked back a toy arrow and shot it at the escaping duo.

"AH! Ymir cried out in pain, holding her shoulder, still giggling, and falling to the ground.

"Krista! Save yourself!" Ymir yelped, rolling around as Ilse laughed and tackled Ymir down, hugging her.

"REVENGE!" She screeched and Sasha laughed, leaning against a van, trying to catch her breath.

"Ymir!" I cried, going to her shoulder, playing along with everyone.

"Stay with me!"

"Ahhhhh! I don't know—Cough, cough—if I will make it Krista." Ymir rasped. She brought her hand out to take mine.

"Tell our daughter that-that I love her—bleugh," she stuck her tongue out, dying dramatically. Sasha laughed evilly.

"Bahaha! Revenge!"

"No! I didn't want her to die!" Ilse pouted, shaking Ymir.

"I don't want to play a game where you die—get up." Ilse huffed. When Ymir didn't automatically did as commanded Ilse began to sniffle up.

"Hey! Fine!" Ymir growled, shooting up, glaring at her. Ilse laughed.

"I don't like it when you cry like a baby!"

"I'm not a baby!"

"You are—you're a spoiled little brat!"

"I am not!"

"Guys, c'mon," Sasha huffed, "let's play something else!"

"I am not a baby!" This time Ilse was really going to start crying up a storm.

I went over to Ilse and gave her a hug—no more tears, okay?

Ilse clung to me, sniffling, and if I was strong like Sasha or Ymir I would've picked her up, but she was already taller than me.

"Let's pretend to race!" Sasha declared, racing away to her preferred vehicle of choice.

I followed along, seeing Ymir glare at Ilse even more.

"You're okay," I told Ilse, patting her back, and she sniffled, nodding, and took my hand. I smiled at her as we went to find wherever Sasha disappeared to.

In the corner of my eye I saw Ilse turn her head and stick her tongue out at Ymir.

"Augh!" Ymir's feet stomped quickly and closely but I turned towards her.

"Can't we just get along…? I-I-I only get to stay one more night…" I told her.

Papa had dropped me off at their yesterday for the weekend after talking a lot with Ymir's grandma.

I didn't know if I'd ever be able to come back…

"Fine." Ymir snorted.

"Krista?" Ilse tugged at my hand.

I looked at her as we found Sasha on the broken down four-wheeler, making car sounds as she revved along.

"You're really pretty and nice."

I felt myself blush as I couldn't help but nervously clear my throat.

Ymir behind me gasped.

"Me and Krista are together again! We're still playing cops and robbers!" Ymir yelled.

Sasha eagerly nodded.

"Me and Ilse will still be the two bad sisters who save animals! Because we're actually nice! And we own a cookie factory!" Sasha yelled.

"And Me and Krista are cops who're married! I am Jones Smith and she's my wife—Sarah Smith!" Ymir said, jumping on the motorcycle by it and helping me clamor on behind her. I held onto the seat but Ymir peered over her shoulder, unhappy.

"Krista, you got to hold onto me! Or you will fall off!" She reminded and I nodded, uncertain as I wrapped my arms around her waist as she nodded and started making sounds with Sasha.

"We gotta take their tires out!" Ymir cried, giving me the squirt gun.

"Not before we take this biiiiiiiiggg jump! WHOA!" Everyone pretended to jump and buck around from the chase as we laughed, shooting away with our water filled squirt guns.

We kept running around the field and car graveyard behind Ymir and Ilse's grandma's house until it was too dark to see. By then, her grandmother came onto the back porch, ringing the triangle.

"Come here, my little ones! Dinner! Go wash up!" She said as everyone raced—Ymir reached the porch first with a laugh, Sasha, and then Ilse who had much longer legs than mine now. I came panting and nearly tripped on myself as Sasha giggled, but got smacked by Ymir.

"Having fun, Krista dear?" Ymir's grandma asked.

"Y-Yes, th-thank you, Miss Nancy—"

"Oh! Call me grandma! You're my baby now!" She laughed, patting my head and shepherding us to the bathroom to wash our hands. When I got a good look we were all caked in dirt and dust.

It was good this way.

Seeing them grin and playfully bump into each other… I was a part of this.

I was with friends.

Real friends.

They'd protect me from anyone—my mom, my grandmother, and the bullies…

They felt so much more than friends. I couldn't explain it but they were so much more. So much.

"Krista, wash your hands," I didn't realize it was only me and Ymir now. Ilse and Sasha were already in the kitchen, I could hear Ilse telling Sasha to wait on eating.

"S-S-Sorry." I felt stupid that I didn't realize it sooner, but Ymir didn't move. She only smiled lightly.

"It's okay… Here's the soap…Ah! Ah!" It slipped from my hand as we both juggled to keep it off the ground until finally Ymir slapped it into the sink. We both burst into laughter as she picked it up and lathered my hands for me.

"There."

Her hands were still on mine as she began to wash them for me. She even took her time to grab the nail brush, cleaning underneath until they were pristine.

I looked up at her, wondering why she was being so gentle and so nice. Nobody had ever been that for me.

Ymir looked at me.

"HISTORIA!"

I snapped awake, holding my pillow close to my body and face, startled and glancing everywhere.

Another pound came to my door.

"HISTORIA! I JUST GOT A TEXT FROM REINER! EXPLAIN YOURSELF!" Armin roared, banging on my door some more as I looked at the clock.

Four am.

I sighed, rubbing my face.

"Alright, okay," I said loud enough for him to cease his assault on my door.

I felt like I was dreaming of something-something that was nice.

But it was forgotten.


	28. Say Something

**[Heart It Races by Dr. Dog**

**Awkward - EP Version by San Cisco]**

_Vrrt._

"So, she has pink hair…and camo pants…" Ymir frowned, staring at me.

"Yeah," I replied, smiling a little at the ridiculous statement.

"Man, that kid is on some good weed," she snorted, rolling her eyes and glancing back at the book, Going Bovine.

"Well…that's the point, I think, is to wonder whether his perspective can be trusted—he's often high and it's been established that he has Mad Cow Disease—"

"What?! He has Mad Cow Disease?!"

I stared at her, surprised she blurted that out.

"Yeah…?"

Oh.

"Ymir…did you even read the assignment?" My smile returned as she rolled her eyes, again, and snorted for another.

_Vrrrt._

"No… not really. I've had other things to do." She went back to balancing a pen on her finger, swirling it around skillfully. She must've dinked off a lot if she was that good at it.

"Like what—picking your nose?" I grimaced when she looked at me, finger deep in her nose.

"Probably." Her voice was nasally as she produced a fleck. She caught me staring before smirking, bringing her fingers back to flick it.

"YMIR!"

Ymir burst into laughter as she went and wiped it under my night stand.

"YMIR! Gross!" I gasped in disbelief and she was still shaking with laughter. I grabbed a pillow and threw it at her stupid face, snuffing out her laugh for only a second.

"Oh, please! Everyone does it!" Ymir responded, throwing the pillow back.

"Gross! Not in front of me!"

"Oh, please, you can't say you don't do it, too," she smirked, crawling over close to me, staring at my nose, "or do you not?"

"Ymir, that's gross."

"Hm. Want me to do it for you?"

"What!?"

"Pick your nose. I can show you the ropes—" I smacked her face with the pillow and pretended to suffocate her as she laughed more.

"Ymir! God, you're so—so—gross!"

"Hahahaha," Ymir pulled away, grinning and flopping down next to me, glancing over my copy of the book.

"Yeah, yeah, but you're smiling so you must like it."

It was true that I was smiling, but it was so disgusting! I just… It was hard to be mad at her for long. She made it hard to hold a grudge against her.

"Anyways," I playfully glared at her, earning a cocky smile, "you really should read the book…I think you'd like it."

"Why? It's been so boring…"

"There's fire giants in it."

"My people!" Ymir gasped as I giggled at her response.

_Vrrrt._

"You're such a dork."

"Hey, a very gross dork."

"Dork."

"Yeah, but fire giants? How? Why?" Ymir got up to only snatch her book and resumed laying by me.

"Well, they're considered the enemies… but I didn't get too far into it and I think you should read and figure it out yourself."

"Ugh… maybe. It sounds kind of cool, I guess." Ymir opened the book.

"I forgot where I left off, though." She sighed, flipping through the pages, skimming and trying to find it.

"There's even a Gnome who believes he's Thor. He seems like someone you'd like."

"A gnome who's a Norse God? Sign me the fuck up."

"What a dork," I said under my breath as she grinned up at me and went back to reading.

That's how it had been for the past week—she'd come over to my house after school and we'd read. Some days she wouldn't and I wouldn't receive any message from her, but other days like this she'd stay till late and then text me until I fell asleep.

It was really nice. It made me feel a lot less lonely knowing someone was always there to talk to, but I really wanted to know what she was doing the days she failed to talk to me. I never had the courage to ask, though, afraid that she'd be distant or dislike me.

It was only ten minutes later did she sigh and groan, throwing the book off to the side and sprawling out, purposefully flopping her limp arm against mine.

"I'm hungry," she drawled pitifully.

"Oh." I glanced at the clock.

It was only about five. A bit too early for dinner.

"Did you want me to ask for Pixis to bring us a snack?" I asked and she nodded, grabbing one of my pillows and covering her face with it.

Was she upset or being dramatic?

I picked up my phone and sent him a message.

_Vrrt._

I glanced at her phone that was off on the desk as it vibrated, moving ever so slightly.

"Ymir, your phone is going off."

"Yeah, I know."

I worried my bottom lip.

"Um…aren't you going to answer it?" I asked, wondering why she was ignoring whoever it was.

"Nah. If it's important then they'd call."

I suppose that made sense but there was no reason to not respond.

My own phone vibrated in my hand as Pixis agreed to bring in a light snack.

"It should be done here soon," I told her, placing my bookmark and sitting it down.

_Vrrrt!_

This time it was mine.

Ymir watched with a frown as I opened my cellphone to see Reiner had texted me. I smiled and closed it for now.

"So, what did he want?" Ymir grumbled.

"Nothing. Just checking on me." I laid back, staring at the ceiling, closing my eyes, and enjoying this time with Ymir. It was everything that I had dreamed of as a kid—laughing and joking and without an ounce of worry.

"Hn." Ymir clicked and sat up, springing off the bed. I sat back up to watch her check her phone, sifting through the texts.

I wanted to ask who it was but I didn't want to be nosy.

Maybe it was Ilse?

"How's Ilse?" I asked. I hadn't spoken to her since spring.

"Hm, Ilse—Oh, she's doing good. She tore her ACL in softball during districts in the spring. But she's doing good." Ymir's voice was distant as she texted away to whoever it was.

"ACL?" I asked, hoping she'd direct her attention back to me.

"Something about the knee." She mumbled and stopped. She stood there for a while before sighing and sending whatever it was.

It made me feel a little bad if Ymir replied to whoever and I didn't to Reiner. He had asked if he could come over for dinner…

"I'm going to head out and hit the town." Ymir shrugged, stuffing her phone away, and gathering her things that laid scattered about the place.

"Huh?" It came out of nowhere.

Did I do something to make her upset?

"It's getting late," well, that was a lie that we both knew.

"What about the snacks?" I stood up, walking out my room with her, down the house, and to the foyer's door.

"Eh… I'll be fine." She didn't say anything at all that indicated why she was leaving so early. It made me worry.

"…won't you stay?" I asked, stopping at the threshold with her. She stopped, hands stuffed into her coat's pockets and she looked down at me.

Her golden eyes were here but I could tell they were busy somewhere far off. She shifted her weight from one foot to the next, looking down at our feet, and then out the open door.

"Nah… you have Reiner coming over soon, right?"

She read my message.

"…Well…" She must've saw I didn't respond, too.

"Don't keep your boyfriend waiting, alright?" She sighed, stepping outside and towards her car in the driveway, leaving me full with unsaid words.

It didn't matter if she was here with me. I could hang out with Reiner any day but I didn't get to always hang out with her.

"We'll talk later," she waved me off lazily when she got to her car and I felt my throat tighten as I grabbed my thigh, digging my fingers into it, wondering what I did wrong.

_You probably pissed her off._

_You know she hates Reiner yet—_

_Nobody wants to hang out with your useless—_

_Nobody likes you._

"Bye, Ymir. Drive safely." I waved as she gave me a lazy smile, hopping into her car, and driving off.

I returned to my room, grabbing my cellphone and replying to Reiner.

_Yeah, come over._

.

.

.  
_Vzttt!_

.

.

.

_Be there soon : )_

**-x-x-x-**

"Did you and Ymir have a good time?" He asked, laying on the couch. I was sitting by his head as he looked up at me.

"Yeah. She really is a dork," I smiled, remembering her jokes and silliness.

"Hah. That's hard to believe… All she ever does is glare at me." He snorted but didn't venture on further.

"She's nice and funny and smart when she wants to be." I defended her and he didn't say more to that.

It was quiet for a while before he rolled over onto his stomach, huffing from being so full.

"How was your day?"

"Fine."

"That's good. Do anything fun?"

"Not really."

"Oh. Me and Bert hanged out. We built some models together."

"That's good."

He smiled, shutting his eyes.

It was quiet again.

"How was Ymir today?" He asked.

"Oh, she had a pretty good day. She said that she might be joining the volleyball team or try out for basketball. Though, she was telling me she was really looking forward to softball, but I don't think she realizes she needs to get good grades to participate…oh! And her sister, Ilse, she tore her ACL… Poor Ilse. I remember her being so small. It's a little crazy to think she got hurt…" I told him, laughing after realizing something.

"She used to be smaller than me but she's about as tall as Ymir now."

Reiner shook his head.

"Seems like an interesting life…" He sat up and laughed a little before nervously looking at the floor.

"Hey…Historia?"

I glanced over at him, feeling like he was about to ask something strange.

"Yeah?"

"Um…is it…alright…if I could…ah, ha-ha, nevermind, nevermind." He was so embarrassed as he scratched the back of his neck, bashfully chuckling.

"What is it?" Curiosity was a terrible thing.

"I just… was going to ask if…um, I could… hug you…or maybe hold you…?"

It was strange to be asked that. In fact, I was completely caught off guard. Usually, people just did it without asking, but here he was…being polite and awkward…

I sat there, uncertain as to what I should do.

Did I want that?

Something in my stomach was throbbing.

Something in my heart was aching.

My bones felt like they were missing contact—they were missing the touch and feeling of someone caring.

"I-I…I think that's okay…" I couldn't help the redness that got to my ears as he grinned, reaching over and lightly pulling me close to him. He kept one arm around my shoulders as he leaned against me.

"This feels nice…does it feel nice for you?" He asked.

Reiner was so gentle and kind. He was such a good guy who always asked if I was okay with something. He listened and he tried his best to follow through. He remembered things I didn't like—pickles, mustard—and knew everything I loved by heart—strawberries, whip cream, and shortcake.

To anyone else, he was the perfect guy. Even I had to agree that he was what most girls would love.

Being in his arms felt safe.

It felt like something I could rely on.

It made me feel less lonely.

But it didn't feel nice.

It didn't feel like the thing I needed.

Those aches were still there but much less.

Was this liking someone? Feeling all these strange emotions at once and not certain what to do with them?

It sounded like it was from what Hannah and Mina spoke about.

Maybe it was but it didn't feel quite like it, but I wasn't used to this, too.

"If you're uncomfortable," he spoke up, "we can stop."

I realized how tense I was.

Should I ask him to stop holding me?

It wasn't bad.

It wasn't good.

There was just nothing.

I looked up at him and I saw the redness of his face, the glow in his eyes, but I also saw the willingness to listen.

I could just see how much he cared. It made me feel nervous and scared almost.

"No. This is fine," I told him and sealed it with a smile that made him grin stupidly.

"That…that makes me…this makes me very happy," he hid his face behind one of his large hands.

Seeing him so happy made it worth it.

He was a good person and deserved good things.

Plus, like I said, I didn't feel bad towards it.

It wasn't hurting anyone.

**-x-x-x-**

"So, why're you here with me?" Hitch asked, frowning. Her voice was naturally sarcastic.

Just like her resting bitch face.

I rolled my eyes.

"I felt like having a milkshake than some fancy lobster dinner." I snorted as she scoffed at me, sipping from the second straw of our shared milkshake.

"Is that really it?"

"What? Do you think anything could beat a milkshake? I was born and raised on commodity food. That rich stuff is too weird for me." I said once more and she sighed.

"Okay, okay, spare me the lecture."

And so we stayed in the diner, eating our burgers and fries and drinking till the last drop of the milkshake.

We stepped outside, standing near my car and Hitch lit a cigarette, puffing away as she looked out where the sun was beginning its descent.

"You're really fucking hopeless." She whispered.

I don't think she meant for me to hear.

But she probably did.

"And you're a basic for wanting me."


	29. New Places, Old Faces

**[Everybody's Changing by Keane]**

"Welcome back, father!" I went down the steps, grinning as I went to hug him. He exhaled into the hug, kissing the top of my head, and his hands were large and gentle on my back.

"Hello, my sweetness, you seem quite cheery! Do I truly bring such delight?" His portly figure jiggled with his laughter as I chuckled.

"Hey, dad." Armin stood at the top of the steps, looking down at his own feet.

With that, father pulled away and looked up at him, sighing.

"I heard about the play." He spoke, leaving me behind as he went up the steps, casting Armin a frown and stare.

Disappointment.

"Yeah."

"I thought we spoke of this before…Surely, any girl could've done—"

"It's—It was just for the play." He muttered.

I didn't understand what was wrong.

"Father…? Armin did very well…" I told him. Sure, I may have messed up, but Armin didn't deserve to get the blame.

"He didn't mean to put me in that position." It was a lie.

Armin did force me into it, but he had apologized and said he wouldn't had if he knew.

But didn't he?

"Oh, darling," father turned back at me, beaming, "you did nothing wrong. Nothing at all! Stage fright is quite fearsome at your age! Especially for such a young lady."

He coaxed with his hand for me to follow.

"I must get all the details about the play inside! I also heard some interesting news about you, my sweetness!" He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and walked with me into the main parlor.

Armin didn't follow. Instead, he stayed out on the front steps, quiet and staring off at the front gardens.

I only saw his shoulders slump before the door closed and father brought me closer to him.

"From what I heard, you did wonderful! Armin even sent me a video! My, what a striking performance, Historia! Absolutely exquisite! If I never knew better I'd say you were the perfect Hollywood star!" Hearing his words made my heart swell, pushing away the negativity I recalled with those memories.

"I-I tried—"

"I can tell! Exquisite! Positively exquisite! Are you planning to stay in it? I heard the stage fright was too much, but you're so good at it!"

"I—I don't know," father approved so much of it… how could I tell him I didn't want to do it anymore?

"If you don't want to, dear, that's okay," he assured, smiling and sitting us down on the couch, "I used to be quite deathly afraid of the stage myself, but public speaking has changed my attitude for it. Then, again, stage isn't a becoming hobby that one can incorporate too much later!"

I was glad he didn't force me into it as I nodded and he patted himself down with his handkerchief.

"How was Japan, father?"

"Oh, it was quite wonderful, dear, but I'm afraid I missed home too much. In fact, I missed being around you the most. I feel most upset that left so abruptly after you got here. I know it was hard to get used to the place." He spoke, eyes glancing around the place and it landed on the piano where Frieda's picture frame was.

"It must've been most hard to be here," he repeated, distant.

"I-It was at first, b-but I really like it!" I spoke, trying to get his attention back.

I succeeded because he turned towards me, smiling so sweetly and kissing my forehead.

"Do you? That makes me most happy… I also saw your grades—you're doing very well! Math is improving quite steadily." He brought his pipe out along with his small kit, opening it and preparing to clean and polish it.

"Speaking of, I heard Braun's son has been coming often, yes?" He smiled, winking at me, making me bite my tongue.

"Y-Yes…" I felt my stomach twist and turn uncomfortably.

Armin or Pixis must've spoke out—I should've—

"That's very good! You're a beautiful girl, Historia, and a very smart and charismatic one! He's a bright, handsome, and good young lad from what I've heard. I think him courting you is good for our family business." He chuckled, making me flinch.

It was okay?

I was ready for him to yell or to tell me to go to my room.

Ready for him to say I didn't need boys. And if I did have a boyfriend that I was a 'good for nothing like my mothe—'

"He should come over for dinner sometime this week so I may meet him! I'd love to know more about this man." He offered and I could only nod in return as he swept the conversation along.

"Tell me about him—don't leave me hanging, Historia!" He giggled, looking up at me as he wiped his pipe with a satin cloth.

"Um, h-he's nice."

"Nice? Is that all?"

"He likes playing football."

"Ah, as does many young men!" He snorted as Pixis came in, smiling and handing him important parcels that were delivered while he was gone.

"For you, sir."

"Thank you, Pixis."

"Ah, Miss Historia," he turned towards me, producing a card from his pocket, "I believe your friend left her student I.D. here."

"Oh!" I took it and glanced at it, seeing Ymir's face.

I couldn't help but laugh at seeing how non-photogenic she was! It was a shame because she really was pretty in real life.

"Oh! A new friend?" Father grinned, leaning close to me to see her.

"She looks like a deer in headlights." He commented, giggling with me.

"Yeah, her name is Ymir—Ymir Langnar."

"Langnar? Never heard of her… Hm. Who's her family?" Father asked.

Being prestigious meant knowing everyone who was anyone and that meant the children of the Academy were in that upper-crust of those certain people.

"Her…um, I don't know her father… but her brother is Bertolt Hoover—"

"Oh! Baldur Hoover! He's one of the well-known surgeons at one of our hospitals!" Father nodded.

"I didn't realize he had another child," he murmured, thinking with a frown. He put the empty pipe to his lips out of habit, pittering away.

"Hm."

I watched him carefully, wondering what he thought of Ymir.

"Hm… Indeed. So, what is your Ymir friend like?"

"Oh, father, she's really funny!" I smiled and he pulled the pipe away, grinning back.

"Is she? Good humor is hard to find."

"She is very funny and very good at sports—she plays volleyball, softball, and basketball. She might play those here if her grades are good enough. She also has a sister—Oh, they're so very tall! I feel so short around them!" I told him, bringing my hand above my head to show just how different our heights are.

"I see, you seem quite fond of her."

"E-Eh?"

"Oh! It's just you speak so excitedly, sweetness! You must love her so dearly… Friendships are a beautiful thing to cherish as you grow up, love." He went back to wiping down his pipe, nodding and smiling.

I didn't realize I spoke so much about her. It made me look back to notice that comparing when he asked about Reiner that I didn't say much… but talking about friends and relationships was different.

One was embarrassing and the other was normal.

"What's her mother like?" Father asked.

"I-I don't know."

"Perhaps of darker descent," he spoke, "hm… don't see much of that around here… how do the other children treat her?"

I didn't know.

I didn't really pay attention how other people interacted with her.

I only ever cared for how she acted.

"Okay…? Though, Reiner doesn't like her much…and she hates Reiner…"

"No doubt! John Braun is a bit, hm, racist, but Bernita Braun is a doll. Hopefully the lad took more after his mother, hm?"

I didn't know whether Reiner was racist either.

I didn't think he was, because Bertolt was dark, too. Ymir was only a few shades more.

"Reiner isn't that way, father," I spoke up and he looked at me, staring at me in the eyes, and then nodding once more.

"Indeed, he probably isn't. I know Armin used to hang out with Reiner and Bertolt a lot. Especially Reiner. Bertolt is darker but a more acceptable tan. Then again, I'm a bit judgy." He chuckled.

I didn't think there was any racism at the Academy. I never saw it happen.

But, I looked down at my skin, I wasn't dark or different like Bertolt or Ymir.

"So, as I was saying earlier, "father tapped his pipe against the table and went to grab his tobacco, "you seem to be uninterested in the stage now. What club do you plan to join now?"

"Oh, um…possibly ballet…"

"Ballet is very good! You look very beautiful doing it…" a small, bitter smile came onto his face as he finished stuffing the tobacco in and then lit a match.

In moments he was puffing rings of smoke, watching them disappear lazily.

"You know, Frieda loved ballet, too… she loved it with all her heart… she loved everything she did."

****

-x-x-x-

_Vrrt!_

"Plan on ballet, huh?" Ymir had her hands stuffed in her pockets as we walked the top floor of the mall, glancing around the place.

"Yeah," I smiled, "father seemed to like the idea."

His sad eyes, his bitter smile…

It made me want to try hard for it.

And it reminded me of Papa.

I wondered how Papa was doing.

Pangs of guilt and homesickness hit me.

I wish I could call him, talk to him, see his mustache twitch before he chuckled, or to see him in the garage again, hear him whistling and shining down his 'Cuda.

I missed it so much.

"Everyone likes to do ballet," Ymir sighed, shrugging about in her coat, "but I'd rather do dance. But it's full."

"Full?"

"Yeah, the club has no room for anyone else." She grumbled, staring down at her feet and kicking a tile.

"Oh…that's too bad…but…you like dancing, right?" I remember seeing her dance like her whole body was water.

Everything was fluid and perfect in her body.

_Vrrttt!_

"Yeah. Back at home, I used to go to Pow-Wows with Grandma and dance in the competitions." She smiled, thinking about it.

"Oh, man, you haven't tried Indian Tacos before have you? Or Elephant Ears?" She jumped ahead, walking backwards, grinning widely.

"No," I laughed, watching her nearly trip over her own feet, "what are they?"

"Ohhhhh man! They're heaven in your mouth! You'll have to wait and—"

"YMIR! KRISTA!" A voice yelled loudly.

Ymir turned around as I went to her side, waving.

Ahead of us was Ilse and Sasha.

Ilse was even taller as she grinned, walking up to us. Sasha was bounding up left and right, giggling and hopping into a hug with me. I hugged her back, laughing.

"Sasha!"

"Oh! You're as cute and small as I remember! Oh! It's been so long!" She cried out and then went to Ymir, hugging her, too.

"I can't believe you guys go to the same fancy-schmancy school! That luck, huh?"

"That luck," Ilse repeated, coming over to me to lean down and hug me, too.

When she pulled away I got a good look at Sasha to notice that she didn't have her metal capped teeth anymore—they were all gone and now white and shiny and glowing. Her hair was just the same and she was exactly how I remembered her.

It made the back of my throat bubble into infectious smiles.

It felt so right to all be together like this again.

"Where to first?" Ymir asked, glancing around.

"Arcade!" Sasha cried.

"No, I need to get new clothes. I outgrew mine." She sighed.

"Clothes first." Ymir decided with Sasha grumbling as Ilse took the lead.

We wandered about the mall until Ilse found the store she wanted to go to—Victoria Secret.

"I thought you said new clothes."

"Underwear and bras are new clothes," Ilse blushed, scuttling inside to look at the garments.

There were a lot of girls in there with their mothers as the store employees were helping them I wasn't too interested in buying anything so I looked at the advertisements and pictures.

I left the group as Ymir teased Ilse for looking at scandalous undergarments as Sasha quipped in.

Some of the underwear and bras were actually pretty cute…

"None of these would ever fit me!" Sasha whined, looking at the bras and underwear.

"Well, yeah," Ymir snorted, "nobody have porn star boobs like yours."

"Hey!"

I chuckled under my breath as I went to my size, peering at what they had for sale by a mother and her daughter.

They were looking up at the trio.

"No, it's because she's too fat." The daughter whispered to her mother who laughed loudly.

I froze up, staring over at them as they sifted through the bins.

Did they really say that?

I looked back at Sasha, assessing her.

There was nothing wrong with her—she was happy and the same Sasha that I loved as a child.

"She should learn to stop eating." Her mother whispered back and they snickered and left with what they had.

I was left standing there, caught off guard at the rude remarks people could make.

_Vrrrt!_

I was stuck there.

Sasha glanced around and saw me staring at her. She waved at me, smiling.

"Krista, come here! This is a cute bra for you!" She laughed.

She was such a sweet and warm person even now.

Why would someone just see her as…

"'Kay," I walked over, forcing myself to smile, and looking at what she showed—"—Sasha!"

It was a see-through leopard print thong and bra set. I felt my cheeks redden as she barked out a laugh with Ymir and Ilse.

"You're so terrible!" I cried but ended up laughing, too, because it was silly. It really was.

In the end, we didn't buy anything and left and spent most of our time in the arcade in the basement of the mall playing mini-golf.

Well, trying to play mini-golf.

"It was so fun seeing you again! You're so pretty and cute now!" Sasha gave me another hug, pulling away to put her hands on my shoulders.

The words from that woman were replaying back in my ears.

_Vrrt!_

"You're as pretty and nice as I remember, too," I replied and Sasha flinched, turning bright pink as Ilse laughed as Ymir rolled her eyes, nudging Sasha away.

"Oh, you!" Sasha finally broke out, laughing, walking away, and waving to their ride.

"We'll see you again!" Ymir told them and we went walking to her car.

_Vrrt!_

"Jesus, Krista, who's been trying to get ahold of you?"

"Oh… Um, I think it's spam...and Reiner, I think?"

"Jesus. Tell him to give it a break." Ymir huffed.

I pulled out my phone, glancing at it.

Twenty messages.

I closed my phone.

"I will reply later."

I didn't feel like talking right now.

I was having too much fun with my friends.


	30. Living Lives in Two Places

**[4th and Roebling by The Districts]**

"Pretty busy last weekend, huh, Historia?"

I stared at the window, wondering what I was going to do about club activities.

Ymir said she was going to try and get into dance but it was already filled.

I wonder if she'd be interested in ballet. She certainly had the long, slender build for it.

"Historia?"

Historia.

It sounded familiar.

"H-Huh?"

Right.

It was my name.

My name was Historia Reiss now.

It was hard to hear after a weekend where all I heard was Krista from Ymir, Ilse, and Sasha. That was my real name and it made me happy to hear it from those three, but it also reminded me of the others who said my name—things I wanted to forget.

Historia Reiss on the other hand was me also, though—the me that wanted to become what father expected, because seeing him proud and happy made me that way, too. I just wanted to see him smile.

I wanted to hear and feel I deserved his love.

Like the movies, I longed for words that nobody had ever said to me.

I'm proud of you, Krista Lenz.

I'm proud of you, Historia Reiss.

"You okay?" Reiner had me in his arms and I was barely watching the movie as the weather was growing colder. Rain was pouring outside and he even made hot chocolate because I told him I loved the rain.

He also borrowed the movie, Grease, from a friend because he heard me say it was my favorite.

And, yet, I was off in my own head and not paying attention.

"Sorry," I smiled at him and I gave his arm a squeeze, because that's what people did. It was comfort.

He nodded but didn't look away.

"It's just really cozy and makes me a bit tired."

"Oh, yeah, I suppose so," he smiled, adjusting his arm, "I, um, said, you were pretty busy this weekend, huh?"

Oh.

I could see right through him.

The question he wanted me to answer was why I didn't respond so quickly, why didn't I talk more, because I usually did.

"I was hanging out with Ymir and my old friends. It had been such a long time since I saw them," I told him, smiling, because there was nothing to hide.

I was happy to have friends. Especially those who knew me enough where I felt fully accepted, but not too close where I felt like I was a burden.

However, he was quiet.

Too quiet as the movie went on and a crack of thunder rolled across the house.

"I… am I trying too hard…?" He asked finally.

I glanced up because his voice was too deep, too worried and I saw him looking away, afraid at me seeing something.

What was it?

"What do you mean?" I didn't understand why he was blaming himself. He did nothing wrong.

The fact he was blaming himself…roused a deep, unsettling guilt in my stomach.

"It's just…y-you really start talking with me, you know? That makes me very happy. And I keep talking, too, but then it stops sometimes…and I don't hear from you for a long time. You don't tell me if you have to go do something…I don't know. I feel…clingy? Am I…being too much? I can stop if it makes you uncomfortable." He mumbled.

His voice was usually always so confident. Barely stumbled except when he got really happy or I let him hold my hand when we went to class.

He was sweet. He was good.

He deserved to be answered back when I was with friends, too.

"I can tell you if I will be busy…" I told him. I felt guilty.

It also felt wrong.

Like I was crossing a line I didn't want to.

The world I shared with Ymir and my friends—that was Krista's.

This here was Historia's.

I didn't want them to mingle.

I didn't want Krista to leak into Historia.

Historia was a good girl who worked hard and made her father proud.

Krista…she was weak, stupid, and foolish.

And she was so scared all the time.

I—

I'm Historia Reiss, happy and safe.

"No, really, if you're not okay with it, I understand—I'm getting clingy, I just know it," he groaned.

"No, I will text you when I'm too busy to talk, okay? I didn't want to make you feel ignored, Reiner." I assured him.

And that set a soft look in his eyes as he hugged me closer.

"Th…Thanks, Historia… that means a lot…"

**-x-x-x-**

School was typical as it ended—I gave Reiner a hug and waved him goodbye.

Ymir was nowhere to be found.

Sometimes Hitch stole her after class before I could even catch up.

I didn't like the way she looked at me with her cat-like eyes.

It felt like she was prying—trying to find something to hold against me.

It made my stomach quake at the idea that she might one day see Krista.

"Right." I smiled, walking down the hallway towards the studio that held the ballet club.

There were several studios at the school for martial arts, fencing, dancing—I stopped.

On the door of the Dance club was a large, colorful poster advertising that there were still slots open for members.

I thought Ymir said it was full?

…

Why would she lie about this?

And why to me?

I felt my head tense up and something in my stomach dropped, feeling cold—hurt.

Weren't friends supposed to be honest?

.

.

.

"Why're you all butt-hurt for?" Hitch asked, taking a drag of her cigarette, blowing it out of her nose.

I felt my lips thin into a snarl, ready to retaliate, but I know that's just how Hitch was—blunt and itching to hit a nerve.

"Nothing. I'm just anxious is all," I muttered, playing with the sleeves of the stupid school coat. I felt like a stupid girl like off those anime shows Ilse always watched on her computer.

"Right," Hitch snorted, glancing over at me. Her blonde hair shone in the light and it looked sort of pretty.

But never as pretty as Krista's—hers was made of sunshine and liquid gold.

"You know, you might be able to lie to all those other fuckers, but you're a shitty liar to me," Hitch flicked her cigarette off the rooftop, watching it fall to the gardens below.

"I saw the way you looked when Reiner hugged Historia—you're jealous as hell. And using me as a rebound is pathetic as hell," Hitch rolled her eyes, leaning against the protective fence.

Now.

Now I was pissed.

"So fucking what?" I snapped because it was one thing to read other people but she could've at least pretended to give me the benefit of doubt. I didn't need to hear what was so painfully obvious.

"I at least am not letting someone use me." I retorted, jabbing at her, and she recoiled and it only made her laugh and laugh.

"Got me there," she put her hands up, unfazed, because Hitch never took offense. She was an unbreakable shield no matter how much shit and fuss I threw at her. It just bounced off and she still treated me the same even though she knew how difficult I was.

And I had to kind of like her for that.

"Don't fucking bring that shit up," I warned, glaring at her, and pushing off the fence myself, ready to leave.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah—who knew you were so sensitive underneath it all? Lucky me, hm?" Hitch teased more and it was annoying, but nobody else had the balls to take me on like that and it was refreshing.

Not like I'd ever tell her though.

"So, before you go—are you joining that Dance club? I saw that they still had flyers up." She asked and I sighed.

"No. I figured I'd just focus on sports, you know?"

"I totally agree—you in spandex… Amazing." Hitch laughed and that made me grin at her.

One hand was an iron, spiked glove with punishment, and in her other was a soft mitten full of honest compliments.

I could dig her enough.

"Whatever." I shook my head, leaving her to smoke her other cigarette.

Maybe Krista didn't leave school yet?

I sighed, rolling my eyes at myself, and kicking the wall when I got at the bottom of the staircase.

One moment I'm cursing her and the next I'm running up excited and tail wagging to just be next to her.

It was fucking exhausting being caught in the middle.

She didn't even fucking know what she was doing to me, too.

"Fucking hell," I kicked the wall for another good measure.

I almost didn't feel the vibration in my pocket as I kept kicking the wall, hoping that beating it would beat some sense into me.

I took it out and flicked it open, seeing it was from Krista herself.

I licked my lips.

Maybe that was a sign that I should bring her back home in my car.

If she didn't care she wouldn't have texted, right?

I opened it up.

It was a picture of the advertisement for Dance Club.

I felt my stomach drop.

Shit.

It looks like some positions opened up, Ymir! We should join together!

I clenched my phone and then snapped it shut.

I glared at the wall.

Obviously I didn't beat it enough.

**-x-x-x-**

_/One week ago…/_

I walked down the halls, hands drumming along my thigh. I felt the urge to pop my knuckles but that wouldn't be cool.

Not here at least.

I strolled until I got to the room the flier in my hand indicated.

Dance Club

My personal dance instructor my father hired me said I was a natural—a real prodigy. She said I could go places if I put enough discipline and effort into it.

I even said there was a Dance Club and she told me to go for it with that dazzling smile of hers. She always made me feel like I could walk into a room and slay.

Curiously, I peered through the window and I saw girls in either tight spandex or baggy, casual pants.

They all had their hair up in messy buns or pony-tails, sitting in circles, standing in groups, laughing and smiling.

It was like they were one big group.

I licked my lips and I felt my hands go up, cracking my knuckles.

They all looked similar.

Pale and blonde or brunette—blue and green eyes, some brown.

But none were like me.

None were as dark or had freckles. They didn't have my facial structure—strong and sharp as my grandmother said. They were soft and exactly how it should be.

I felt lonely in that moment.

It made me think of Sasha and Ilse and my old teammates during sports. How we all were related by grandmothers or uncles or some distant relative and we all got along and we all were a different shade of dark.

But in this school it wasn't like that.

I was the odd one out.

And it felt fucking shitty.

I pulled away from the door, looking at the flier and back at the studio.

It made me feel odd—uncertain and unwanted.

I crumpled up the parchment and threw it in the trashcan and left.

My instructor's encouragement didn't mean anything now, because I didn't want to be the token dark dancer. I didn't want to be set in the back as all the other parents clapped and nodded in approval, thinking the club was so progressive during performances for including a minority.

"Fuck that."

I wished I was home…

I popped my knuckles again, hearing a voice in my head that was slowly fading away.

I should talk to Marco.

I bet he would know what to say and do.

He always made me feel better and stronger.

After all, he was my best friend.


	31. Moments & Memories

**[Elephant by Hannah Georgas]**

Bitten.

I could feel my lower lip swollen as I held Ilse, hugging her, watching the early morning cartoons.

It hurt quite a lot—I had gotten too excited when I figured out how to get the stove to work, too eager to eat the mac n' cheese that I burnt my tongue and then chomped my own lip.

I cried.

I had cried.

Oh, had I cried.

"Mum." I could hear Ilse sniffle but it wasn't from hunger any more.

Just loneliness.

So, I stayed up, holding her, and giving her a squeeze when she got fussy.

I kept looking at the clock, but I couldn't read it. It didn't have numbers.

All I knew was that it was super late if Tom & Jerry was on.

I only got past the opening credits before headlights ran across the walls.

Mom was home.

I smiled, patting Ilse's back, waking her up.

"Mom's home," I told her, kissing her forehead.

Ilse perked up, standing up tiredly, and quickly going to the window to see the parked car.

But it didn't stop running.

I felt my tongue grow thick and heavy like when you eat too much peanut butter.

"Ilse," I cleared my throat, "Ilse, go to my room, okay?"

Ilse began to cry but she nodded, shuffling away with only the pitter patter of her feet following.

Soon enough mom came stumbling in the door, laughing and reeking of alcohol and cigarettes.

"Mom," I smiled, looking up at her.

"Hey…aren't you supposed to be in bed? School tomorrow!" She frowned and then waltzed to the fridge.

There wasn't anything in there.

Not anymore after I used the cheese after scraping the mold off of it.

"…Tch." She sighed, closing it and then turning towards me.

"Mom…are you going to stay?" I asked because Ilse never slept well unless mom was home. She liked sleeping right by her. I did, too. We both liked sleeping next to mom because she always told of us old stories about Coyote the trickster.

"Hm?" She was fishing around in the change jar, taking whatever handful of dimes and quarters there were.

"…Are you staying?" I asked, fiddling with my sleeves, and popping my knuckles.

I wanted her to say yes.

It was hard to be without her for a few days.

We were lucky Sasha had her sixth birthday yesterday and they let us take lots of food back home, or else I'd have to go to Grandma's and mom would be mad at us.

"Oh, yeah, yeah, I will be in—hm… ten minutes?" She said, finding her cigarettes and lighter near the couch.

"Really?" I smiled, walking up to her and hugging her leg. It smelled very bad but I was happy that she'd be home.

"Yeah," she patted my head and then leaned down, kissing the top of my head, "I promise."

I knew better but I wanted to believe so badly that she'd keep her promise this time.

But, Ilse and I knew she never did and that we'd have to find a ride to Grandma's house because there was no food here anymore.

Only us and the TV and the several nights where mom left me to watch Ilse alone with promises she'd be back at ten.

Be back at twelve am.

Be back when the bar closes.

Be back when the party ends.

Be back by the next morning.

Be back by lunch.

Be back later evening.

Be back to only make a promise and break it.

Over and over.

.

.

.

"What are you going to do with that?" They had laughed with blood running down my nose and knuckles cut fresh.

"Stab me?" He laughed.

Oh, he fucking laughed when I shot up, jabbing it right into his elbow joint as my palm went straight up, crushing that pathetic stub of a nose on his face as he yelped in pain.

There was so much blood.

But it wasn't enough.

I wanted more!

I wanted to hear him scream! Cry! Fall down and beg for mercy as I kicked his ribcage in!

I wanted—

I shot up from my bed, shaking, and immediately staring at my hands, feeling it drip, feeling that warm blood fall from them.

My hands shakily went to the lamp, hesitant.

Don't look.

Don't fucking look—my hand turned the knob as light shot through the dark, blinding me as I winced, recoiling.

Wet.

Dripping.

Warm.

I squinted at my hands, licking my lips, and I saw they were clean.

No blood.

Clean hands.

I exhaled and felt my throat constrict. The wetness was my own sweat.

"Fuck," I ran a hand through my hair, huffing, trying to get a fucking grip.

Nightmares. Always the fucking nightmares.

I rubbed my face into my forearm, wiping the sheen of perspiration as I wobbly got out of bed, tripping all the way into the bathroom and turning on the shower.

It was two-thirty am.

Tom & Jerry would've been on by now.

I felt my gut roll and squeeze.

The bathroom was stuffy, small, like the idea of crawling through the crawlspace under my grandma's house.

But my room just beyond the door was way too large.

Everything wasn't quite right.

Something was very off.

I felt lonely.

So very alone.

I didn't want to do it but I quickly went into my bedroom, swiped my phone, and went back into the bathroom.

I flipped open my phone.

What if Krista hated me for lying at her?

I didn't mean to lie. I was scared, felt alone.

I bit my bottom lip, remembering that burning and swelling sensation of my dream.

I hit the reply button and went to texting her.

Sorry for the late response. Sure. Be fun. Have you ever danced?

I stopped from sending it, though, remembering all the girls in their sweatpants and probably liking pumpkin spice whatever.

I'd be the only one, but…

Seeing Krista's smile, being around her, and watching her dance, it'd mean a lot.

_Ymir, you didn't keep your promises!_

_…Ymir…_

Promises didn't mean much to me anymore but I forgot it meant a lot to others.

Krista reminded me of when I was younger—alone and scared and doing more than I ever should.

It made me soft and caring and so fucking uncomfortable at the same time.

Just her smile—she was a literal ray of sunshine.

I couldn't describe it any other way except if I had swallowed the sun whole.

I was the Coyote and she was my moon.

I felt my stomach tighten once more and I ran to the toilet.

My dream shot through my head—rupturing any thought of Krista into the cascade of blood that came from that boy.

I vomited into the toilet, clutching its seat as I dry-heaved over and over. Only spit and acid came up.

"Fuck," again, I felt like something bad was going to happen.

That I was missing something vital.

Waiting, all I could ever fucking do was wait.

I stood up, stripping myself, and slipped into the shower. I sat down in it, holding myself, trying to block out those memories of blood.

They were not all his.

Some were—

"No."

He didn't deserve it.

_If only…_

**-x-x-x-**

"Ymir!" Krista came up to me after school with her new book in hand.

We had both passed our test for English and were onto our next. Though, it was all thanks to Krista and her being patient with me. I doubt I would've read it all without her encouragement.

Krista.

"Historia," I smiled but that name felt so foreign. It came out like another language that I regurgitated, offending even my own ears.

"You ready to go sign-up?" She asked, pulling out her very own flier.

I nodded, showing that I had one, too, and she happily went in front of me, leading me to where we needed to go.

Behind us was Reiner, watching, and he lingered too long.

I glanced behind me.

Our eyes caught.

And I flipped him off.

He glared and I snorted.

Just to rub salt in his fucking ego, I caught up to Krista, wrapping my arm around her shoulder and leaning down.

"Ymir?" She asked, confused.

And I smiled at her.

"You're so short. It's kind of cute."

"Ymir," she huffed, cheeks puffing, and I laughed, because I knew he'd hear and he'd see that she loved me more. She was with me more than him anyways.

But as I looked behind my back I saw Hitch by Reiner.

Arms crossed and frowning.

"Ymir, do you think I will be good?" Krista asked and I looked forward, grinning for her.

"I think so." I poked her cheek, deflating it, and she laughed.

It really was like my whole body was filled with fiery stars.

**-x-x-x-**

Late at night, I got a text.

I was brushing my hair, getting ready for bed.

I had told Reiner I was going to sleep long time ago but it didn't come fast enough. Anxieties kept me up and wouldn't let me rest.

Believing it was him, I opened it to read but it was not from a number in my contacts.

What?

I stared at the message.

_Make sure Ymir signs up for Dance with you._

I texted back.

_Who is this?_

They knew me and they knew Ymir. I felt a lump in my throat as I waited and waited. It seemed like forever until my phone vibrated again.

_A friend._


	32. Better Off Blind

**[Young Bloods by The Districts]**

"So, sport, I heard about that play," father spoke, reading the morning newspaper. He had his coffee black as could be and his cement ginger snap cookies—he loved his life with difficulty so much he even wanted his cookies to fight back.

Reiner looked up from his breakfast.

"Yeah?"

"I heard that Armin Reiss—good kid, by the way, very good, I love him like my own son, really—had to play the princess, huh?" He put down the newspaper, smiling.

That smile.

"Yeah. Only the last part. Historia got stage fright."

"And you let him?" He chuckled. Mom shot him a warning glance and then gave a weak smile to Reiner.

"Well, I didn't know till last minute—"

"You should've refused, son! That boy stuff? It's pretty… unrefined and dirty. I know you—you're a go-getter. You love football and you're a good kid, sport. Let's not let people get the wrong idea, hm?" He sat back, winking at his wife and laughing a bit more.

Reiner stared down at his food.

"Of course, dad. I got a girlfriend so—"

"Yeah, that Historia Reiss you've been talking about? Rod Reiss's child… hm." He was about to pull out his metal tin of cigarettes out but mom scolded him before he could.

"She seems rather nice, Reiner—quite the looker if I remember! Good choice, son, good choice. I approve. However," he sighed, eyeing Reiner with disappointment.

That absent look of how could his kid not do something as simple as he was about to chide him about.

The reminder of his father's lectures of how great and impressionable he was as a kid and that Reiner should aspire to be just like him.

"I saw that one of your grades are slipping? We can't have that. You got to look at your future, son. Every grade gets you a step closer to achieving great things!" His voice was trying to encourage him but all he could see was the split second of shame, guilt, and disapproval.

"I will work on that." Reiner went back to staring at his breakfast.

He didn't feel like eating as much as before.

"Good! I know the apple doesn't fall far from the tree—a good ol' chip off the ol' block, my son! I believe you can have anything you want in life and I will push you to achieve that," he nodded, smiling, and standing up.

"Now, it's my time to go to work and earn my bread." He went over, kissing his wife, and then walked by Reiner, patting his back.

Reiner smiled at his mom because she'd need that to see it was fine.

He was used to the expectations and being put off to the side as a trophy—a conversation his father could boast about. His father only ever saw what he wanted Reiner to be.

At least, Reiner thought, Historia saw him for who he was.

She accepted him and that made him happy.

Unlike his father, she wasn't ignoring him and liked to hear his honest self.

**-x-x-x-**

"Aren't you jealous?"

Reiner turned towards Hitch, confused.

She was standing right by him, arms crossed, and watching Historia and Ymir walk off to the Dance Club.

Reiner had resigned from their previous club with Historia, choosing to focus on sports and training. Sure, it meant less time with his girlfriend but he knew that this was her first time at a nice school.

Or, that's what Armin said.

So he gave her space to figure out what she wanted and liked to do.

She seemed so happy.

"What do you mean?" He was smiling because he could see Historia smiling.

Then Ymir turned around and flipped him off.

He grimaced, trying his best not to react as she turned, wrapping an arm around his girlfriend and making her laugh loudly.

"Jealous of Ymir? She takes up all of your girlfriend's time, she sees her more than you, and she hogs all her weekend time, too." Hitch spoke, staring up at him.

"She's her bestfriend. They've been that way since they were little," Historia had said that and he understood it. He loved hanging out with Bertolt and he didn't like the idea of having to spend less time with him.

"Yeah but don't you think she should spend more time with you instead?" Hitch smiled a bit.

"Stop it," Reiner clicked his tongue, "you're just trying to start something."

Hitch snickered.

"If I was someone on the outside looking in, I'd think Ymir was with her and you were the best friend instead," she flicked her gaze at them and then him.

"Oh, wait, I am someone on the outside… Oh wells." She shrugged, leaving him.

Reiner frowned and then snorted, laughing.

Hitch was weird and she said stuff to get people riled up. It was stupid.

But, she wasn't wrong on the fact Historia ignored him whenever Ymir was with her. She always spoke of her so enthusiastically and that was always the topic of conversation. It was like her mind revolved around Ymir but he knew it wasn't so.

Historia had things she wasn't telling him but he didn't pry—he always wanted her comfortable and happy.

So he let them be.

It gnawed on his mind but it was ignored.

After all, Historia was with him, picked him, and that was all that mattered.

**-x-x-x-**

I felt Ymir close behind my back as we both peered in the club room, seeing everyone stretching. They were all smiling and seemed friendly enough.

I glanced over my shoulder to see her frowning.

"It seems okay," I said, trying to get her to lighten up. She was always so overly critical but that only made me feel better for some reason.

She was kind to me—an exception compared to everyone else.

"I guess."

There wasn't anyone we knew in the club but I thought that was better. Ymir was often distant when my other friends were around.

Maybe she was shy or she just didn't like them. The latter sounded more plausible than the first.

"Let's go in," I told her, pushing the door open.

I felt nervous but it wasn't that bad.

Normal if I had to guess—just normal, average nervousness of new experiences.

Ymir was by my side and I knew there was nothing to worry about.

But, yet, she lingered at the threshold and I turned back.

"…do you not want to join?" I asked.

I remembered her lie.

The text, too.

She stepped inside when I tried to smile for her. She shook her head.

"You're a brat, you know that?" She eased and leaned against me, propping her arm on top of my head.

"You are, too," I shook her off as some of the girls looked at us. They gave smiles as the club advisor came up, excited and jumping about with energy.

She led us away with paperwork and things for our parents to sign but Ymir was on edge.

Maybe she was shy and nervous, too?

Not that she had much to worry about…she danced very well.

I had no idea how to.

Oh.

Oh no.

I didn't know how to dance.

I felt myself stop as I realized the biggest mistake—dancing required performing in front of people who'd critique your every move.

If you weren't good then you'd be laughed at.

I felt my heart tighten at the idea of being on stage again.

I was so caught up in the fact that Ymir lied and that I wanted to watch her dance again—stupid.

I was stupid.

Worthless that I couldn't even dance—something so simple.

So stupid for not realizing sooner—

"Hey, Krista," her words were quiet as we went to the desk, writing out our information, "you okay? Your hand is all shaky… nervous?"

I glanced up to see her golden eyes watching, always noticing things that were wrong with me.

It made me feel bad.

We promised to be better and I was still a wreck and mess even though I took up a whole new life and name.

"Yeah," I agreed, my lips pursing together, "I get really bad stage fright."

"Yeah, I know, little pumpkin hider," Ymir smiled, patting my back, "don't worry. I'm here and I'll help."

She was always so considerate. She really was my best friend—all those years of being separated didn't change that. It all felt like a blur when we were apart.

She made me feel… okay to be not okay. Like she knew that it was only temporary and that it wasn't the real me.

We wrote the last of our sign-up sheets and handed them in.

The advisor literally jumped around, laughing and giggling. It was a breath of fresh air to see someone so bubbly but Ymir seemed repulsed by her overly sweet attitude.

"Okay! Today, we'll learn the basics of—" oh no.

God.

I couldn't dance to save my life.

I felt like everyone was watching me.

I felt uncomfortable when she made us mimic dance moves that were too suggestive.

When I saw Ymir, though, flawlessly doing whatever she asked without second thought, it made me feel sick to my stomach.

I felt foolish compared to her.

But she felt my gaze somehow and glanced over at me, smiling.

"We'll take care of your two left feet," she winked and I felt my face turn red in embarrassment.

I didn't know how we could as the advisor clapped her hands together, issuing us a break.

"I don't know how…" everyone was so much better than me.

This really was a big mistake.

I should've just went to the book club. There was no such thing as a bad reader.

"I will amputate your extra left foot—hey!" Ymir laughed when I jabbed my elbow into her.

I snorted as she rubbed the tender spot, still giggling at my expense.

She was a jerk—a real big fat one.

But I knew she meant well.

Ymir always did.

That's why she was my best friend.

"Okay! Let's resume!" The break was over quickly.

We continued and countless times the advisor came back to me during routine, correcting my stance and guiding me over and over.

Again, I felt stupid but Ymir stood by the advisor, helping and smiling and cracking jokes to make me feel less bad.

She even charmed the other girls into helping me.

"Your first time dancing—You're doing very well!"

"It's hard at first but you'll get the hang of it!"

"If you need any help I will be right here!"

Ymir watched me as all the girls encouraged me, patting my back, and smiling.

When they left she put a hand on my shoulder.

"You can call me doctor from now on. We will start the amputation soon—ow! God! Your fucking elbows are goddamn razer blades!" She hissed, bending over and clutching her ribcage.

This time, though, I was laughing, feeling fine in my own skin.

Even if it was only for a moment.


	33. Dance Me to the End

**[Song used for the dance- Coffee by Sylvan Esso]**

"I don't know, Ymir," I felt my face redden as she repeated the dance move once more but slower.

Her hips were gyrating and I could see the definition of her muscles under her skin-tight spandex.

"It's easy," Ymir smiled at me and did it again.

We were at my house in the old ballet studio to practice. Well, more so for Ymir to help me 'amputate my left foot'.

"You just have to feel… well, sexy." Ymir laughed when I glared at her.

I didn't like the idea of that term being used with me—it felt dirty. It made my skin crawl a bit even though I knew Ymir didn't view me as a physical object.

Sexy—sexy was the word boys used to fantasize about me in my old school.

It meant the desire to have sex with.

They only viewed me as something to have sex with.

Sex.

This time I shivered because my body felt sick.

Ymir noticed me look away and took it as a cue for a break. She waved it off.

"It's alright! It can be hard at first," Ymir said but I knew it probably was easy for her, "but you'll get it."

Ymir went over to the stereo turning off the music we were listening to and sat down by it, chugging down a bottle of water.

I wandered over to her, grabbing my own water, and sipping on it.

I didn't know how Ymir was comfortable doing those provocative moves without feeling self-conscious.

"What's on your mind?" Ymir asked, looking up at me.

She always read me so easily. It made me feel hopeless that I could never hide anything from her critical eyes.

"I just…"

"C'mon. You can tell me." She waggled her eyebrows and I snorted. Even when I felt terrible she had a way of making me smile.

"I don't know… it's just… very… out of my comfort zone." I admitted, sighing, and looking away. It felt stupid—it was a dance. I was the one who was seeing it in a sexual light.

"Oh," was all Ymir said as she stared at me before grinning.

"That's my Krista! So pure!" She laughed, swatting my leg as I glared at her.

"That's not it!" I defended myself and she kept snickering away until she stood up.

"So, what you're telling me is this—you don't feel comfortable with dance moves that are…?" She gave several examples, making me blush and shove her away as she winked and stood near me once more.

"Y-Yes." I felt stupid over it.

It should be easy just like Ymir said.

"What do you feel comfortable with?" She asked.

Personally, dancing was supposed to be fun, carefree, and nothing sexualized. The first picture that popped into my head was the Charleston like off those old black and white films, or partner dancing where they swept across the floor. The kind of pretty things with dresses and soft smiles.

"I… I like old fashioned dancing."

"Old fashioned…? Like…?" Ymir motioned for me to continue.

"Like…the Charleston? Or… where its two people and they're going across the floor in sweeps?"

"Oh. Wow. Yeah. That is fucking old-fashioned." Ymir's eyes widened.

"Jeez. Super old."

I felt my cheeks redden as she smiled a bit.

"I didn't take you for an oldies type of girl." Ymir murmured even more. I didn't know whether she was approving or disapproving of my taste.

"…What's that supposed to mean?" I frowned, poking her arm, ready to turn it into a playful jab if she teased me.

"Nothing bad! It's just… hm. I mean, I can do that—my grandma likes that stuff, too, but… it's not really cared for these days?" She rubbed the back of her neck.

"Oh."

"I mean, sure, we can do that right now if you want, but it's just I doubt it will be of use in Dance." Ymir lightened up a little.

"N-no. Nevermind." I felt really stupid.

Of course it wasn't something good.

"We can just keep trying other things." I told her, putting my water down and going back to our positions before.

Ymir frowned, capping her bottle, and going to me, arms crossed.

"It's fine…if it's what you want then I'll help you do it."

"…really? You really don't have to…" I felt bad she'd go out of her way to do it.

"Sure. Don't worry about it," she stepped closer to me and I stepped back, because I felt crowded, uncertain what she was doing.

"Didn't you want to try duo? I can help you with your left-foot then. Just let me take the lead." Ymir told me and it made sense why she got close.

I cleared my throat.

"Right."

She put on a soft song that wasn't heavy into bass. It was slow and gentle with an easy drum sequence to follow.

Before I could hear the rest she went behind me and I stepped forward, away, because I didn't know what she was doing again.

I didn't like not seeing what she was doing. It made me nervous.

"It's alright, I won't do anything bad," she put her hands up, "I'm only trying to help."

She always knew my mind.

She closed the distance once more and I could feel her body heat against my back.

She didn't touch me but the space between felt haunting—it was close but not enough to feel her against me.

"I'm going to put my hands on your hips," her voice was even gentler than the music.

I felt my face go hot because her breath coursed over the back of my neck and the tips of my ears. It was a different feeling in itself. I had to refrain from cocking my head to the side and shivering.

I felt the warmth radiating and moving behind me until I could feel hands on my hips, pressing against my shorts. Her fingertips were flush against the jut of my hipbones.

Her hands were so warm.

I nursed my bottom lip.

Reiner never touched me like this and it felt odd—sensational even.

I wouldn't admit it to Ymir because it felt too personal to explain or utter.

"Now," words became whispers against my hot skin, coaxing me to think of what was happening to my body rather than her instructions, "take a step like this."

She led me elsewhere—far away from where I should've been in my mind.

With each step, she told me about our movements like the way a lover would kiss words into the skin.

I had to will everything in my body to not shake but every limb felt light and jittery. My bones and joints ached and longed for something I knew had less to do with what was happening, but for something lost.

Something I could only associate with her.

"Good," another fluttering puff of hot air on my naked shoulder, "this time… use your hips to emphasize your movements."

Her hands lightly squeezed and I felt something searing shoot up my spine. It was like a crack of lightning that brought a realization I buried as quickly as it came.

Her touch guided me into every circle—showing my body how to move under her caress. She was gentle and slow and patient as we danced across the room until the song replayed over and over.

It felt like infinity had stretched between us—it was the hot space between us. I never knew only a few centimeters could ever feel so long but so short.

"You did great!" She pulled her hands away and it was over.

Her words no longer danced against my hair or ears.

I was free from the covetous hold it had over me.

Yet, everywhere she had touched or been was sensitive. It was like a burn that reacted to the slightest movement.

"See! You got this!" Ymir grinned, smacking my back and almost knocking me over. Almost slapping the ache out of my body as I smiled at her, feeling my confidence increase.

"Y-You think so?" My own voice sounded choked but she seemed to ignore it.

"Definitely! Just keep on practicing and you'll do good!" She went to the stereo, turning the loop off, and nodding.

"Really good," she repeated to reinforce the idea.

I lingered though.

My lips felt dry and my tongue heavy.

I licked them, trying to release myself from the shaky dizziness that overcame me.

Whatever it was I didn't want to think too hard on it.

People hadn't touched me like that and I didn't know it would have this effect on me. I thought I'd be scared and it'd repulse me but it wasn't like that.

But Ymir knew how to make me feel… something.

I smiled at her, brushing those thoughts and feelings off.

But they were running through my mind.

I couldn't shake it.

Ymir turned towards me.

Eyebrow raised.

Did she know my thoughts?

I bit my lip.

Did she feel—

"Doctor Langnar, the miracle worker, the best surgeon—OW! Fuck!" Ymir cried out when I headbutted her jaw.

"You—you're such a nerd!" I roared.

Of course she didn't know.

She wouldn't feel this way like I did.

It was stupid and, again, I was putting too much thought on nothing.

"Hey! It was a joke—a joke! Goddamn! You got a fucking fat, thick skull for someone so small!" Ymir rubbed her face, wincing.

She had effectively dispelled the very enchantment she put on me.

"And you're not even funny. Get better jokes!" I retorted and she glared at me before snorting with a smirk.

"Whatever! I have the best humor." She leaned against me, propping her elbow on my shoulder.

It was quiet for awhile as we rested, drinking our water, and staring off into nothing.

We were there but not at the same time. It was comfortable this way—we didn't need to speak to enjoy each other. Just knowing we were by each other was enough.

"So… about the Charleston…" Ymir's voice trailed off.

"I know how to do that," I told her rather confidently. Papa had a lot of older movies that included it and as I grew up I taught myself how to.

Maybe not as good as what was shown but I knew the basic steps.

"Oh? That's a relief." Ymir sighed.

"Your footwork needs some work—you stepped on my toes like twenty—Ow! Ow! Okay! Okay!" Ymir relented, laughing when I lightly poked her cheek.

"I didn't even do it hard." I rolled my eyes and she put her hand over her heart.

"Yes! You may not have struck me physically but my feelings!" She dramatically threw her head back.

It was rare for her to be like this.

I was used to the Ymir at school that was always frowning, glaring, and showing off with smirks or disappearing with Hitch.

Not the one who was smiling and a big dork around me.

"I'm sure you'll recover with that ego of yours."

"Ooh! Icy!" Ymir laughed, patting my shoulder, and walking away.

"Alright, Reiss, let's see what you got. Impress me!"

I followed her, ready to give it my best.

Even if I didn't meet her standards…she'd at least touch me once more.


	34. Awkward

**[Work It Out by Knox Hamilton]**

Heightened senses and fiery skin.

That's how I was for days on end.

I'd spend all night wondering why my body was reacting this way—it wasn't supposed to be sexual. It was purely to help me with Dance Club but I liked where she touched me.

I wonder if this is what people called sexual realization.

I never had much of a need before. Certainly, I touched myself a few times before when I got strange urges but I never felt a true yearning till recently.

Every time I brushed off the need it'd be the next day and she'd be teaching me how to dance again.

Her hands guiding my hips, her hands lifting my thighs to how she liked them, and her touching my under arms, brushing against the skin there, ghosting over it without realizing what was going on.

Dancing.

It was so much more sexual than I ever thought it was.

I bit my lip, throwing my arm over my eyes just as my alarm clock went off.

My hand was deep in my underwear, cramping up and tired.

It had been like this for a week.

Going to bed with urges—fix them.

Waking up early with my panties wet—fix that, too.

But it never was satisfied.

Sexual awakening.

It was even more embarrassing that it was with my best friend.

It would've been better if it was—well… I don't even know.

The idea of Reiner touching me there wasn't exactly appealing. It was hard enough to try and kiss his cheek. Thankfully he didn't ask for anything more than that and hugs.

I stared up at the ceiling.

I wasn't stupid or oblivious.

I didn't like Reiner as a boyfriend. I never really did and I learned that the very first day we became a 'thing'.

Why stay with him? I asked that every day.

Maybe because he felt comfortable—he was always there and supportive. He was someone I never had before who was excited for all I did and he made me feel good about myself. He reacted like everything I did was something special.

Nobody ever did that.

Even Ymir wasn't like that. But to say he was better than her in that aspect was not correct, either.

They just had a different way of doing things.

"Ugh," I grimaced, slapping the alarm off. Hand still down there.

I ran my index finger up and down my sex, feeling it throb like we didn't dedicate an hour of our morning into trying to satiate that need.

Sex.

Sex.

Sex.

Shouldn't I not be as interested in it?

Did girls talk of this often? I thought only boys were supposed to be this obsessed.

I dragged my hand out of my underwear.

Did that make me a lesbian?

I closed my eyes, picturing all the girls I saw in the locker room when they changed, but none made me think 'oh, that's nice'.

It just wasn't like that.

I couldn't see boys like that either.

I just liked the way Ymir touched me because she was familiar, too. More so than Reiner.

I didn't like Ymir in that way—did I? If I did I think I would know.

Reiner and her made me happy. They were good friends. They made me feel special but in different ways.

Ymir was a part of me that wanted… well, to be better.

To not feel bad and to not believe what those voices in my head told.

Useless.

Stupid.

Those things.

Reiner made me feel like I could possibly get over them and that I was above it.

They supported me.

And I liked them both for that. However, like them more than friends?

I know I didn't like Reiner that way.

I didn't know about Ymir—I didn't think of kissing her.

Not until now.

I got out of bed with my clean hand tracing my own lips, thinking of how it'd feel.

Would her lips be chapped? How would she kiss?

Those were stupid questions.

She was with Hitch. I knew because Hitch always clung to her like how all the girls clung to their boyfriends.

Ymir didn't say they were together but I trusted her that she would tell me if they were.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

I was still so tired.

I ran my hands over my face-

"Ugh!" My messy hand had smeared it all over my face.

"Ew."

A shower was more important than brooding right now.

"Gross."

**-x-x-x-**

I was staring up at the ceiling, listening to the repetitive strumming from Reiner's guitar.

I was in his room—door open upon his mother's request and my relief—as he tuned and played his guitar for the lack of other things to do.

It was Friday and his mother had picked him up at school. When she saw me had invited me to come over for dinner. I couldn't say no because she was so cheery and excited.

I looked over at him to see him biting the pick, tuning once more with a frown.

"What song are you trying to play?" He told me he picked up guitar over the summer but he was still learning. He wasn't much of a creative person.

"Wonderwall," he smiled, taking the pick out of his mouth, and began to strum again. It was sounding better and better as he kept playing.

"I never heard of it," I told him and he nearly gasped, staring at me with a strange blush.

"Well, let's fix that," he put his guitar down and got up to plug in his iPod into the stereo system. He skimmed through until he found the song.

It was similar to his strumming but better.

I listened to the lyrics.

"I… I was going to play it for you." He admitted, sitting down on the side of his bed, laughing.

"But, let's face—I'm really bad at it. I should stick to football." He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling some more.

"You're still learning. I'm sure you could do good," I patted his back and he turned to stare at me.

Dark hands on my hips.

I didn't feel the same for him.

I don't know if I could ever do the same. He just… wasn't like that. He was my friend and I couldn't place him in anything other than that.

But what would happen if I said I didn't feel the same?

I'd crush him.

He was so good to me and to just… do that to him…

I don't know if I had the courage to say it.

"Historia…"

I blinked, watching him blush.

"…Yeah?"

"I…c-can… I just…kiss you?" His shoulders were tense and I could practically hear him twiddling his thumbs, waiting.

A kiss?

"…a kiss?"

"Yeah… on this lips…"

I cared a lot for him.

And I couldn't just hurt him over not liking him enough.

I was too scared and selfish, because I didn't want him to leave me after the break up. I still wanted his attention and care, but only as friends.

I doubted he'd want that after this.

"That's okay."

A kiss wasn't much.

It was my first but— my first kiss.

I licked my lips.

Was it worth it—to give things I didn't want to for his continued friendship?

He was already leaning towards me, eyes closing, and hand cupping the side of my face.

… a kiss… on the lips…

I felt my back tense as he kept getting closer.

He was centimeters away from me and I felt my lips quiver, ready to return it.

It felt warm to have him close but it was nothing more than that—no spark, no aching. Just an empty distance.

"W-Wait," I put my hands up, pushing his face away and he did as I asked, startled.

"I—uh—do-do I have bad breath?" His whole face was red as he began to panic.

I stared at him, face burning.

I almost gave it away but knowing it wasn't going to be taken sent relief flooding through my whole body as if someone splashed cold water down my back.

"N-No…I—I just don't feel ready." I squeaked. Literally.

He absently gave a nod.

"S-Sorry." He muttered. I could hear that he meant it.

And it made me feel bad again.

Bad that he probably would never get a kiss for his good intentions and efforts.

"I'm sorry."

I wish he knew what I was actually apologizing about.

**-x-x-x-**

Weeks were going by fast as Ymir and I spent more and more time together. It felt like we were making up for all those years we spent apart.

Everyone in Dance was starting to compliment me on my figure and grace, but our instructor kept advising me to be more expressive.

She said I lacked 'passion' or that I was without 'character'.

I didn't know what else I could do to show that.

Club activities were over and Ymir and I stayed behind to practice more. My father had important company over and asked that we move it to Ymir's house—Ymir declined that idea.

"Halloween is coming up soon," Ymir said, stretching as she stood near the barre.

Our club had decided we would be holding a Halloween dance with an opening act.

It was the first time I went to an actual party or dance. Willingly.

"What're you dressing up as?" She smiled.

"A snowflake?" She wagged her eyebrows. I went over near her, frowning, and decided to show off a bit.

I took my shoes off as I went bare foot and performed a pointes, sur les by relevé and—for extra—a well-executed sauté.

Ymir only stared at me.

"Wow, okay," she clapped lightly in surprise, "you…do ballet or something? Are your toes fine? Did you break them?"

My toes were very fine.

"I've been taking ballet for a while now," I smiled, giggling, glad to finally see her pleasantly surprised face.

"Yeah, okay, so," Ymir snorted, "definitely are a snowflake."

"Oh, you," I frowned, lightly shoving her with my foot and she smiled.

"No, really! Snowflakes are supposed to be all pretty and elegant or something like that, right? Be perfect!"

Halloween wasn't about being something Christmas-y. It was supposed to be scary and fun and full of candy.

Not that I ever knew. I only got to watch others Trick-Or-Treat. I had to stay home and hand out candy.

"What are you going to be?" I asked and Ymir chuckled.

"That's for little kids."

She was right, I guess. She was sixteen and probably saw all that stuff as childish.

I still wanted to do it, though.

Ymir popped her knuckles and she was staring off at the windows—seeing it was already dark.

"Well," she glanced back at me, "I mean—sure, I'm sixteen and all but back at home we celebrate it differently."

Right.

She grew up a lot differently.

Did Native Americans celebrate this sort of thing…?

…What about Thanksgiving…

"What did you guys do?" I stopped warming up, resting against the barre.

"Well, we get paintball guns and go balling—" she held her arms up in a makeshift gun.

"—and we split off into teams and go shooting at each other. We wait until it's really dark out. Some people like to shoot up teacher's houses or cop cars."

"Bang, bang," she chuckled, lowering her pretend gun.

Shooting people's houses? That didn't sound very nice to do…

"Doesn't that ruin their houses and cars, though?"

"Yeah. Paintballs come in bright colors—orange, yellow, neon blue and stuff. Oh and pink."

I frowned at her.

"Did you ruin people's cars and houses?" I didn't like the idea of Ymir being a jerk to others. It was one thing to just glare and stuff…

Ymir snickered, mischievously looking in the corner of her eyes.

"Ooooh yeah."

She really enjoyed the Trick part of Trick-Or-Treat.

"What about the children?" Surely she didn't hit them.

"Oh, no. We didn't hit them. Jesus. We aren't monsters."

"But you'd ruin people's houses and cars?"

"Wellll, they had it coming, alright?" Ymir shrugged and I pushed her with my foot again.

"That's not very nice of you." Ymir was sweet to me. She should be good to others, too.

"Hey, I never said I was a saint, did I?" She pushed me back and we were both smiling.

Maybe the people did deserve it. Maybe they didn't.

Ymir clasped her hands together almost like an evil villain.

"I will be heading back home to go paintballing with Sasha and Connie."

Connie must've been another friend of hers.

"What about the dance?"

I didn't want her to leave.

I wanted to experience Halloween with her.

"Oh. I'll just do the opening act and then race back home. It starts at what—6pm? I will catch the last ferry home."

She had to cross the ferry?

There was only one ferry I knew that crossed the river and it was only a thirty minute drive from where I lived.

"You live across the river then?" I asked and she nodded.

"Did you live near there?"

"Yeah. I lived only thirty minutes away."

"Oh, what? Really? I live at Shiganshina. It's just right after you get off the ferry." She looked genuinely happy.

"It's right on the reservation."

It was amazing how close we were.

It was also sad that we never met sooner.

"I lived in Karanese."

"Oh! No way!" Ymir stopped, nearly hopping in place all wide-eyed.

"We played against the Karanese Hunters all the time! Why didn't I ever see you around more often?!" Ymir was as flabbergasted as me now.

"I didn't get out often…"

"Oh…right…" Ymir stopped.

Did she remember what I had said so long ago at the fair?

I felt like she never really remembered. She never brought it up after finding me behind the pumpkins.

"…so, um," Ymir scuffed the ground with her feet, walking to the middle of the studio, cracking her knuckles, "did…your family move here?"

I hadn't told her how or what happened.

I never told anyone.

"No."

I wasn't about to tell anyone.

For all that mattered I was still pure.

I was a pure snowflake as Ymir deemed.

I wasn't touched—my hand was at my thigh, pinching it, digging my nails into it.

I didn't want to think of it.

I had done so well not to think of it—his breath, the way he groped me, and how—

"Oh…well, that's okay, you don't have to tell me. Don't worry."

My hand shot away from my thigh when she looked back at me.

Her golden eyes were soft and caring and if not worried.

She outstretched her hand like she always did—asking to pull me out of my thoughts and overwhelming feel of despair and feeling like I wasn't in my own body.

The worms, the maggots, the quivering of my intestines…

I walked over, taking her hand, and she brought me close to resume our dance rehearsal.

"You really don't have to." She said.

I was glad she understood that there were some things I didn't want to ever talk about.

It wasn't that I was lying but that I was just withholding things nobody wanted to hear. Things that made people squirm and stare at me as if I was weird and strange.

The way mother looked at me—disgust.

"Thanks."

I didn't want Ymir to think less of me.

"Do you really think I should be a snowflake?" I asked and she rolled her eyes, dipping me low to just make me laugh.

She dropped me.

I cried out.

Almost.

She almost dropped me but grabbed me last second.

She barked out in a fit of laughter at her jest of letting me fall.

I slapped her shoulder and she brought me into a hug.

She couldn't hold back her giggles as my stomach was in turmoil of vertigo and a heart attack.

"No, no, no," she laughed, "you can just—oh God, ha-ha—you can just be an angel."

An angel.

"And you're a devil, right?" I smacked her thigh for good measure, but never hard. Just softly to know I was joking.

"Oh, yes—I am the devil. Now, let the sin corrupt you!"

She was more of a succubus than devil with how she danced me to the end.


	35. Wayward Emotions

**[Keep by Pity Sex]**

"What're you doing?"

Her hands were on my rear, squeezing, and pulling me closer and I felt my breath hitch-hah, it hitched.

"Well, y'know, my hands are on your boobs…" To prove my point I tweaked my hands against her bra and she rolled her eyes, shoving my away with disgust.

"Oh yeah? It looked like you had other things on your mind," Hitch huffed, pulling her shirt down and panting a bit, pressing her back against the wall of the fire exit.

It did get hot as balls in here- it smelled a lot like cigarettes and Hitch's perfume. Familiar scent.

"What I do this time? Did I bite too hard?"

Hitch shot me a look and began to readjust her tie and cleared her throat.

It didn't look like there was going to be a mark on her neck at least.

I sighed, clenching the collar of my shirt and fanning it out.

Maybe I was just getting too heated over the makeout session. If groping and feeling Hitch up was considered making out.

Then, again, she was getting pretty into trying to stuff her hands down the backside of my skirt.

"Yeah, you did bite hard, but that's not the point. What's on your mind? You make a shitty liar." She dug through her purse and fished out her pack of cigarettes and lighter. Without saying anything she began the trek up the staircase, heading towards the roofs. I followed right after, fixing my skirt and tie.

What if Krista saw this?

Whatever. She wouldn't care. She was with Reiner anyways.

What if you saw Krista and Reiner doing exactly this?

Break my fucking heart, would you?

I slammed the door open for Hitch and we went to the safety fence, leaning against it as she lit herself up and took a long drag.

The sun was already setting as the autumn air caught the smoke, lifting it away. The embers and light lit Hitch's face up.

It would've been pretty if the lighting of the sunset didn't always remind me of the fair and seeing Krista's pure eyes turn turqoise and light up orange and red like endless fires.

Yeah, it would've been pretty but Krista was always beating out every girl I ever fancied.

Unreachable, unobtainable, straight, and taken.

Pathetic.

"You almost look cool," I smirked at Hitch and she almost coughed on her cigarette, chuckling, and then delivering a soft kick to my shin.

What was with small blondes and kicking me?

"Yeah, yeah," she rolled her eyes, "so, are you going to tell me or what?"

"Tell you what again? Oh! You wanted me to talk dirty to you, right?"

"Jesus, fuck, no." Hitch grimaced.

"Last time you tried that you compared my skin color to uncooked meat. Not exactly sexy."

"Hey, I'm not saying I would bang an uncooked chicken, but-"

"Ugh. Shut up." Hitch had enough of me and shoved her spare hand against my mouth.

"Or I will murder you by throwing you off this roof."

"Would you now? I don't think you're strong enough."

"Really?"

"Yeah, but, I mean- go ahead and try to wrestle me. I think you'll find yourself underneath me."

Oh.

How Hitch's eyebrow cocked up and a cattish smile curled at the ends of her lips. She inhaled and then blew a big gust of smoke right in my face.

"Big talk for a power bottom."

"Ugh!" I waved it away, hacking, and then flipping her off when I could actually breathe.

"Yeah, fuck you, too!"

"You'd like that."

This time I gave her a nudge with my shoulder and she laughed, taking the chance to rest her head against it.

And we stayed like that.

It was comfortable but nothing sparked as the sunset went lower and lower as her cigarette burned and burned.

It was nice in its own way.

Once the last flick of ash left and she let the cigarette fall into the parking lot below she sighed, never moving.

"Ymir?"

The tone already told me what she was going to say was rather serious. It made me tense because I didn't want serious- this was fun and should stay that way.

"Huh?"

"Why can't it stay like this?" She asked, quiet, and faraway.

Those words were familiar- echoed throughout my life through different people. The words were from Sasha, Marco, Krista, my grandmother, and Ilse.

Now they were Hitch's- the beginning of a silent promise.

"Stay like what?"

"Just… having fun. Being here with you. Better than friends."

I didn't blame her-it was easy being like this. Things came naturally but they also came without reason or feelings. Hitch was fun to be around and it so happened she had a nice body and personality that made me want to smear her smile off her face in all the wrong ways.

But I wouldn't give into her game.

She said it in such a way where I had to either promise her it would stay like that, or say life wasn't that way.

Words were always dangerous, things that came out too fast and without thought.

Promises were those careless whispers.

"Would you like it to stay this way?"

To say it once was to show enjoyment.

For her to repeat herself and say it twice would tell me whether she was willing to lower her pride and insist in desperation and affection she wanted it so.

Words.

"Yeah." It was without hesitation.

I sighed even though it came out more as a tired laugh.

"Maybe it could. Maybe not." I shrugged, pulling away from her and ready to leave the roof. I spent enough time humoring her emotional games. She always got like this after fooling around and I didn't linger for her to cling too much.

She knew my mind was elsewhere. She knew probably where it was all the time but she continued to chase me as if her determination would outwin my personal will.

What a troublesome woman.

"Going to Historia, huh?" Her voice was low and snarky and I heard her lighter flick another cigarette up.

"We have rehersal."

"Yeah? I thought you were skipping to hang out with me?"

"Second thoughts. Be shitty to leave her waiting."

"Be shitty to leave me." Hitch retorted, laughing.

"Funny- I let you touch my tits and even play with my underwear a bit and yet you go after a girl who will only dance with you."

I stopped by the door, looking over my shoulder, wondering why she was picking this fight, again.

"And you're the girl who keeps going after someone who clearly has tabs on someone else?"

"Tch. Yeah, well, at least I'm not lusting after my own friend and then trying to bang another."

"Shut the fuck up, Hitch. Jesus fucking Christ, you're really grasping for straws now, huh?" I opened the door, shaking my head.

"It's getting pathetic. You know how this is- if you don't like it we can stop. I won't beg." And I waited for only a few seconds, listening for her to stop all this shit.

But she didn't.

Only the faint hush of cars and a passing jet came between us.

"Yeah, alright, bye."

I left her with her dead-end games of guilt and mind-fucking. It was tiring.

It really was but I kept coming back just like she did.

Hitch stared at the distant city skyline, hazy with her own smoke as if she could set the whole world on fire with just one puff.

She blew it out and tilted her head up to the sky, staring at the jet slowly flying overhead.

"Why couldn't it stay like that?"

**-x-x-x-**

By the time I reached the studios I felt a lot better.

Sometimes Hitch was too much for me to handle after messing around. She got weird and clingy and upset over things we already knew and established.

It was like my feelings would just expire after a certain amount of time and I'd just like her.

It didn't work that way.

I waited for so long wondering why thinking of a blonde girl sitting next to me on the Ferris wheel made me feel like the sun was in my chest until Marco made me realize what it all meant.

He'd be so happy to see me now.

Right. Remember to talk to him before you go paintballing-

"Ah!" Krista gasped out loud.

It came from the studio.

I stopped, listening.

I heard a grunt- a boy's grunt.

I felt all the blood and weight above my chest completely fall as my feet instinctively raced me to the door, peering in.

Inside, Krista was squealing, struggling as Reiner lifted her high above his head, spinning them, laughing and trying to keep her squirming body from toppling over.

"Too high!" She cried out but there was a smile-a laugh.

A smile and laugh that was for her boyfriend- something I couldn't do. I wouldn't be able to lift her that high off the ground and receive that loving gaze.

No.

Fuck that.

"Hey!" I barged in.

Reiner jumped and quickly put Krista down, still chuckling as Krista's face was pink from laughter.

"What took you so long? Historia was waiting for at least twenty minutes." Reiner frowned, disapproving of making her wait.

Oh, shut the fuck up you asshole. I was fucking busy-go fuck off.

"Had to run an errand." I shrugged because Krista would want me to be a little civil.

But if that fucking bastard made one fucking offhanded comment, I would fucking-

"Oh? That's okay," Krista cleared her throat. She glanced over at Reiner.

"I will see you tomorrow!"

"O-Oh?" He was caught off guard and looked at me.

Yeah. That's fucking right. Scram you fucktard. Krista is all mine.

I only smirked at him and he grimaced.

"I thought I could watch you two dance. You've been so happy about it I wanted to see?" He smiled and I quickly glimpsed at Krista and saw her face falter-yes.

Yes.

Perfect.

I could tell even she didn't want him to snoop around.

"E-Eh? That's embarrassing, though…"

"I know you dance good!" He encouraged but I walked between them, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close.

"My K-Historia does dance good! Too good for your eyes!"

He didn't even notice my fuck up.

"Your Historia?!"

"Yeah! Mine!"

Fuck him.

Krista was mine long before he even knew she existed.

"Right, Historia?"

I glanced over and she had her eyes at the ground, embarrassed.

"Ymir, please," she whined, "don't be mean."

Reiner even gave a stupid nod in agreement.

Poor guy-I could see he was trying, but, damn, did he have an annoying gorilla face.

Fuck him and his greasy beef body.

"Maybe another time, Reiner?"

"O-Oh! Sure! Um, I'll see you tomorrow, huh?"

Nope.

He was narrowing in on her cheeks- Krista's rosy, pale face.

I had to take one for the team.

I shot my hand between them and-"UGH! GROSS!"

He fucking slobbered some on my hand from his gross-ass kiss!

"Fuck! Gross! Get!" I swatted his face away as he darted back, startled and then disgusted in realization that he kissed my hand. He didn't even get time to ask why I did it as I shooed him away, snarling and rubbing my hand repeatedly on my skirt in hopes to get his monkey-titan germs off.

"How can you kiss a knuckle-brain like that? He fucking slobbered on my hand!" I shot to Krista and she laughed, covering her mouth- oh, she was so beautiful.

Hitch would never compare to her.

Why did I even go back to her?

Krista was all I needed.

If I was to be poetic I'd compare Hitch to a coat in the winter- it kept me warm, but Historia was spring and summer.

"What you laughing about, huh?" I smiled and it only made her laugh more.

I approached her and brough my hands to her hips.

"Laughing about your gorilla boyfriend, huh? And his cooties?" I said with stupid words because Krista was cheesy and loved those silly words.

"Is that it? What if I was a big gorilla? A monkey-Titan?" I laughed and Krista looked at me with eyes lidded in mirth, cheeks red, and a smile so beautiful that it made my heart melt.

Every bone in my body begged to touch hers and to feel that warmth. Everything was static and every time we touched I was shocked.

I lowered myself, hands still on her hips, and I tested if I could lift her-wow, she was pretty light.

"YMIR!" She cried out.

I closed my eyes.

I could pretend we were together and that Reiner never was with her.

It was always just us and she was the one who looked at me with adoration.

I lifted her above my head and opened my eyes.

"I'd be a Dancing-Titan," I smiled and she looked down at me, hands reaching to grab my shoulders in fear of falling down. I brought her close, holding her to my body, and spinning her, giving into her infectious laughter.

"You'd be a Dancing-Titan," she agreed, snuffing her fit of giggles into my shoulder-her breath and lips were there.

It was a kiss. Almost.

I kept her above me, feeling her arms wrap around my neck, and I closed my eyes again.

I might've not been able to hold her as high as Reiner or as long, but I doubt she'd ever know how much I loved her. She'd never know that she was always in my thoughts and I always saw her above the sky and sun itself.

If I put her up against the sun on a clear day, she'd shine the brightest and warmest.

I'd always hold her above my heart.

Even if she might never know.


	36. Missed Connections

**[Need My Girl by The National]**

"You sure you don't want a ride back home?" Reiner had come all the way from his house to offer to drive her home. It felt like he was going a bit too out of his way.

"You have your driver's license?" I asked, glancing back at the red mustang.

Reiner gave a grin, crossing his arms.

"Not exactly but who's going to know?"

I shook my head, smiling.

"I can wait-"

"Yeah, at least ride with someone responsible," Ymir chimed in, waltzing over and wrapping an arm around me. She was always hugging me in front of others. It was silly of her to do that. When we were alone she didn't do it as often. She'd just put distance between us.

Maybe it was just another aspect of her mask- to make us seem closer than I actually felt we were.

Reiner frowned. He didn't even see Ymir come from the gardens despite the whole academy being lit as if it was day.

"Oh, I didn't realize you had a ride home?"

I shrugged Ymir's arm off, stepping away a bit. The two of them looked at me funny.

Were they trying to one-up each other?

All for my attention… that was stupid of them.

They should already know I was lucky to be friends with either of them and that I should be the one begging to always hang with them.

"I do. I texted Pixis." I brought my phone out and showed them.

Reiner nodded, seemingly pleased with the idea, but Ymir sighed, scratching the back of her neck while clicking her tongue.

It made me feel bad the both of them were offering, but I didn't want to choose between them. I'd hurt one of them if I did. It was better to just go with Pixis.

"Hm. Well, I'm glad you got a ride. I'm going to head back home," Reiner thumbed towards his vehicle. He was closing the distance to either get a hug or kiss but Ymir's glare made him realize she'd just block him again.

"I will see you later," I went to him instead and gave him a hug, pulling away before he could try to sneak a kiss on my cheek.

"Later," he winked, grinning, and left with that.

Ymir didn't leave, though. She just lingered by me, arms crossed, and unhappy.

She didn't even wait for Reiner to get into his car to speak up.

"Why're you with him again?"

"Huh?"

"Shouldn't a girlfriend go with her boyfriend any chance they get, you know? Kiss and dates and shit?" She was saying it as if to look out for me but her words were on edge.

I knew she disliked Reiner. A lot.

But, I felt it was unfair to try and pit me against him.

"You hang out with me more than him- what's up with that, huh?"

What was she trying to say?

Why was she getting mad at me for choosing to be with my friends more?

"I don't know-"

"Do you even like him, or are you using him?" Ymir gritted as Reiner already drove away.

"Wh-Ymir, why would-"

"You're using him, huh? To try and look like a good girl- pretty, popular girl with popular jock?" She laughed, easing up but it still felt like she had a knife to my throat. My words were choking up in my throat.

"What is it, Historia? Or is it Krista? Who are you anyways- Krista or Historia? What do you want to be?"

What did I want to be-

"You have whatever second life you do with me- you're laughing and you're smacking me when you'd never lay a hand on another person or that shit. But when you're around others? You shy from me, you only politely smile, and you don't say much? Huh? What is it then?"

"Y-Ymir, stop."

Ymir opened her mouth but bit back any other words.

She snorted, looking away from me- golden eyes golden and orange like the autumn leaves.

"Listen," she exhaled, tired, "if you're going to be playing mind games at least make it fucking plausible."

She left me unable to speak up or even comprehend how to respond.

I could only watch her get into her car and peel out of the parking lot and leaving.

Why…

Why did she yell at me?

Did I do something wrong to her?

I felt like glass with a gaping hole in it, cracking. I felt vulnerable and as if nothing I had within me was safe or good enough.

My intentions and thoughts felt transparent. She had read every fear I had, every question about myself, and the things that plagued me at night.

My hand went to my thigh, listening, quiet, and then digging my nails in my thigh. I could feel the burning pain radiate from my skin as I pinched, dragging along the skin till I could feel the cold air set it aflame like a sunburn.

I deserved this.

I deserved to be hurt because I was a bad person and someone terrible.

Ymir was right.

What was I doing?

She… what was she doing with me if I was so terrible?

Why would she be around me?

A whistle came from behind me and I shot my hand up to my chest, frightened.

Hitch grinned, sauntering over from the gardens.

Wait.

Was she there the whole time?

...Ymir came from that direction…

My mind went blank.

"Wow," she drawled, whistling again, "she really tore into you, didn't she?"

I couldn't handle Ymir's confrontation alone.

I wouldn't- I glanced behind me, hoping Pixis would be pulling into the pick-up lane, but I knew he wouldn't be here for quite some time.

"How did that make you feel-shitty?" Hitch giggled, putting a hand over her mouth, watching me closely.

I was already transparent- her critical stare could see right through me, tear me open until she'd choke me on my own intestines.

I felt like I was choking already.

"You couldn't even speak up-she just bulldozed you over." She smirked.

"It must feel shitty, huh- for your dear friend to fuck you over like that?"

Hitch was only a foot away from me, staring down at me, waiting for a response.

"Why do you think she said that, huh? What do you think her motives were? I feel like it wasn't exactly all about being cute friends, was it?"

I didn't understand.

Was Ymir mad at me and not telling me?

What did Hitch know?

Motives?

...was Ymir using me?

I felt myself tremble.

Everyone used me in some way- Armin used me for his own plans, mother used me for her business, grandmother used me to make herself look good, and now Ymir… she'd- she'd-

"I-I-I don't know," I felt my knees wobble, threatening to break down into a sprint.

Anywhere than here.

Anywhere.

I needed to run and hide.

Nobody could see me.

I was wrong- bad. I wasn't the perfect little girl I was told to be- I wasn't pretty and quiet like I should be. I was being difficult and a mess and nobody would want that.

"I-I'm sorry," I sobbed, hands gripping the edge of my skirt, "f-f-for whatever I did."

I must've made Hitch upset and disgusted because I was being difficult and terrible. I felt bad she had to witness and deal with me like this. It was all my fault.

Hitch stepped back.

Her eyes wide and then her frowning.

"J-Jesus," she squeaked, "I-fuck, okay, let's, uh, sit down, huh?"

I didn't know why she was surprised. I just nodded because I didn't deserve to say no.

She led me to the gardens, sitting me down on a bench that was too warm.

"Are you cold?" She asked because I was shaking. Badly.

My whole hands were jittery, clinging to whatever fabric I could to try and stop them.

I looked like a freak- a disgusting freak that nobody deserved to take care of. I was being a burden.

So much so that Hitch, out of everyone, had the chore to take care of.

What a fucking waste I was.

"Here," she spoke up and I looked up to see her taking off her coat, handing it over with a deep frown, eyes on the ground.

I couldn't will my hands to take it.

Instead, she lifted it over my own school coat, wrapping it around me.

Why was she being nice?

I watched her lean back, crossing her arms and looking away with pink cheeks.

"Jesus Christ," she kept whispering.

"I-I-I'm sorry." I said again because she couldn't even look at me.

She was probably annoyed and tired already.

She shot me a glare.

"K-Knock it off!"

"I-I'm sorry." I was still being terrible even though I had good intentions.

"Hey, what I say!? Knock it off with the apologizing! You have nothing to apologize for!"

Despite being broken and shitty, I knew to keep my mouth shut. I wouldn't tell her anything of the demons and past that kept flashing through my head.

"Look, you shouldn't be the one to say sorry. I was being a bitch and I knew what Ymir said hurt and I was just-" she stopped, sighing and bringing her hands up, rubbing her face.

She was being what?

I didn't understand.

I doubt I could ever understand anyone, because I was a self-entitled, spoiled fucking piece of-

"I'm sorry." She groaned.

"I-God, I'm such a bitch."

I stopped thinking for only a second to look at her.

She apologized?

I thought I deserved what she was telling me. She wouldn't have said it if I didn't deserve it somehow-

"I...I'm just jealous, alright? Stupidly hella jealous." Hitch admitted, staring off at the barren trees.

Why?

She only gave me a glance and gritted, nearly bristling.

"Ymir is always all over you, and, well, she fucking shouldn't be."

Was Hitch mad because we were friends?

"She should be wanting me more."

I could see why Hitch would think that- Hitch was really smart, funny, and while everyone acted like she was terrible to be around everyone always invited her and laughed at her jokes. She was the center of attention and friends with everyone. She was known to be laid-back and cool.

And I… what did I even have going for me?

Nothing.

"S-sh-sh-"

"Hey, I'm not finished," Hitch put a hand up and then winced.

"...Sorry...um, let me continue...please." She rephrased.

She paused, quiet, thinking, and then continuing after what seemed like a moment of resolve came over her face.

"Ymir should be all over me because we've been seeing each other."

I knew that. Though, I didn't like to think of it.

"I even let her touch my boobs!"

Something hot went over my face. My skin felt like cold, wet clothes sticking to my inside, making me feel nauseous and upset.

"I bring her out on dates and she brings me there-but, you know what, Historia? When you call she fucking just up and leaves me. If you ask to do something as stupid as do homework she'll drop me right on my bare ass to go see you. She could be half way up my shirt, all hot and shit, and just drop me, and it's fucking ridiculous! What do you guys even do, huh?"

Oh.

She was jealous… because Ymir would leave her to hang out with me.

It made me feel awful, upset.

"I-I'm so-"

"No. Enough. Now, tell me what you two do? Do you guys...mess around?" She asked, words biting in.

"N-No!" My face went red.

Ymir's hands up my shirt- God.

No.

Thinking of it was… too much.

"W-We study...and stuff."

"Stuff? Does she take you out, too? Have you ever gone to her house?"

"N-No?"

We were good friends but Ymir didn't like being at her own house. They never really went anywhere except to the mall to meet Ilse and Sasha.

"Hm." Hitch's eyes narrowed and she glared at me for a long time before easing up.

"Alright, fine, so she just likes being around you." She whispered.

It sounded lonely.

Sad.

I didn't understand it myself, but I knew what loneliness was.

Vulnerability.

And it didn't suit Hitch. She was above that.

"I-I can try to hang out less…"

"What? No." She shot but there was no fire or anger. Her eyes were downcast and sad.

It didn't look like Hitch. She never had weaknesses until now.

"I-I want to help-" I could see it.

Hitch really liked Ymir.

More than friends sort of way.

I didn't want to get between even if the idea of them as a couple hurt me.

I wanted Hitch happy, because Ymir would be happy then.

"No… it doesn't matter either way." Hitch sighed, rubbing her eyes and standing up. She seemed like she gave up.

I didn't want her hopes to break.

"I really can!"

And she was startled for a moment but she laughed. It echoed against the garden walls and trees, desperate and sad for some return.

She kept erupting into giggles, wiping the tears from her eyes.

Oh.

I stopped crying.

When did that happen?

"You really are sweet." Hitch admitted.

"No wonder." She murmured, smiling at me- it was such a nice smile.

She cleared her throat, not giving me time to respond.

"Perhaps if things were different, I'd have taken you up on that offer."

What did that mean?

"But, even if I did, it won't mean anything."

What was going on?

"H-Hitch?"

I felt something bubbling in my stomach.

"My family is moving by the end of the month. So...yeah."

Moving?

Why would they move?

What about Ymir? She'd be hurt that Hitch left.

They were good… they were good somethings.

"I-I'm sorry."

She smiled again, shaking her head.

"You're too good."

I never thought I was too good.

It was the first time someone ever sat with me during my anxiety attacks.

The first time someone said I was a good person.


	37. All is Fair in Love & War

**[Lovefool by The Cardigans]**

"You're getting really good," Ymir smiled, coming up from the side and watching me repeat the move she had shown me—the rolling of hips, jutting my torso forward and mimicking a wave with my entire body.

It was sensual.

Just like I saw her make it.

I smiled at her compliment and staring, but it didn't quite feel the same. Not with what was on my mind.

It felt hollow almost—as if it was echoing back to be filled and fuller.

With what? I didn't know.

I just kept thinking of Hitch and how sad she appeared when she left.

She even let me borrow her coat for the night as she left with her chauffer.

The words she said last night kept running through my mind—I'm moving.

I looked up at Ymir to see her wiping her brow with the hem of her tank top—her stomach muscles taut and defined.

How many sit-ups did she do a day to achieve that?

My own stomach was… soft and without muscle.

"Hey, what's up?" Ymir always knew when my mind wandered.

"Oh, um," I glanced at the walls but they were covered in mirrors—reflecting our every action, leaving no escape for hiding our mistakes and faults.

And secrets.

"I just… feel kind of off."

"Yeah?" Ymir frowned, intently watching my moves.

"Yeah."

It was quiet for a moment.

Ymir wasn't acting upset and I believed it was because Hitch never told her what was truly happening.

But you could tell her.

I could.

I could tell her Hitch is moving. I could tell her so many other things—that I stared maybe too long at her or that sometimes she interrupts my thoughts when my hand is up my skirt.

I could tell her many things but that didn't mean I should.

Hitch had her reasons for keeping quiet of small details like I did.

What would I do if Hitch told Ymir one of my secrets?

I would be upset and hurt.

And I didn't want Ymir to feel I was taking her kindness and friendship too much to heart.

To think of Ymir distancing herself from me not because of a fault in time and our separation…but because I was seeing her slowly in a different light?

To think of losing Ymir because I was being spoiled and greedy and wanting her closer?

I didn't want to think of that. I didn't want to picture a world where Ymir would leave me because she thought me—Krista and Historia and all of my heart—was too disgusting to tolerate.

"Wait."

I felt my throat thicken as I looked at her, easing a smile, trying to seem like I wasn't thinking of bad thoughts near Ymir.

Remember.

Historia Reiss is a good girl—good girls are quiet, gentle, loving, and understanding. They get along with everyone and exceed expectations.

If you like Ymir…then you aren't good anymore… There's something wrong. Father and everyone expects you to do great in school, get married, and have children.

It's what a happy ending is—even Sleeping Beauty had it.

"Did Reiner try to do something? Huh?" Ymir crossed her arms, scrutinizing me.

"I will throw that stupid gorilla back into the damn zoo if he's forcing you into anything," she bristled.

She was the Ymir I knew—protective and fighting for me through elementary bullies and time.

How could I lie to her about something that might hurt her?

Hitch's secret would hurt her if she didn't know right away.

I had to tell.

She was my best friend and this was a secret I could withhold—

"No, um, it's—"

"No! Really! I will beat him up!" Ymir flexed her arms.

Oh.

They really were nice arms.

I shook my head, trying to speak again.

"Ymir, I'm just… It's—Hitch is…"

"Oh no," Ymir huffed, dropping her dukes and tilting her head back, "don't tell me she talked to you after I left?"

"E-Eh?"

Did she already know?

"Yeah, I offered Hitch a ride home but she said she had something to do and was being all pissy and glaring at you. Did she say something stupid? I will straighten her up if she did," Ymir was back to growling and grumping as she went to the stereo, switching it off.

"Um…we did talk…"

"Did she give you a hard time, Krista? You can tell me." Ymir's eyes were bright, searching, and her hands kept playing with the hem of her tank top.

When I met her gaze she pulled it away, staring at everything but me.

It felt like she was avoiding something with me—did she not want to talk to Hitch about it?

"She…she was…Hitch was…"

"Hitch was Hitch, right?" She snorted, cracking her knuckles, and scuffing her shoes on the floorboards.

"Um…yeah…"

"Look," Ymir grimaced—what was she thinking?—, "I don't know what she said to you…so…"

She stopped, biting her bottom lip and looking at me through downcast eyes.

"She… she said…some awful things…but she was really nice afterwards."

"Awful things? Krista, c'mon, tell me it. Stop avoiding it." Ymir grew impatient, stepping a few steps back to lean against the wall. Her arms were tight around her body as her knee bounced up and down.

"She…well, she said mean things about me. Kind of…laughed at how you, um, 'chewed' me out."

Why was I covering for Hitch?

Ymir was more important to me but my mouth kept hiding what I really wanted to say.

If I told Ymir…she would be hurt. I would be hurting her.

If I didn't tell Ymir…Hitch would be able to tell her and deal with the confrontation.

Ymir clicked her tongue in response, running a hand through her short hair.

Oh.

It looked so nice slicked back…

"Typical," she huffed but gave out a bitter laugh, "typical."

The repeat was breathy and almost grateful.

But I didn't want to think Ymir would approve of her bad behavior.

"Yeah, alright—I will talk to her. Let's just get back to practice, yeah?" She went to the stereo and flicking through her iPod.

She looked back at me, smiling.

This was my chance.

I could speak up now.

Tell her about Hitch moving just in case she didn't know.

Be honest.

"Yeah."

I never had the courage—never did I ever not want to realize how much Hitch might've meant to Ymir.


	38. Nobody Hurts like Me for You

Watching Krista was like watching fire. 

It made my throat hot and dry but my body felt like awkward, sloshing Jell-O. 

Her body kept swaying in my head and it was driving me mad. 

Today was too close…

The way she spoke Hitch’s name… It was an easy indicator to see that Krista didn’t approve of their relationship. 

Krista was nice but… I felt like she didn’t exactly grow up with an open mind for lesbians. 

Well, bisexuals and lesbians. 

Speaking of a certain bisexual…

I kicked open the roof door to see Hitch at her usual spot, but the sun has long been gone. Only the firefly of her lit cigarette could be seen with the stench of cigarettes. 

I only got a glimpse of her from the staircase light before the door slammed shut. 

“Hey,” I walked up to her, cocking my head to the side. 

“What now?” Hitch exhaled and the stench was stronger for a moment. 

“Kri—Historia.”

“Krista,” Hitch corrected for me and it made my lips twitch. 

Krista didn’t deserve other people to know her as the poor girl who was in the newspaper and on social media for being abused. 

A lot of people at the school knew but pretended to not just for her sake. 

I made sure that nobody would give her a hard time. 

Including and especially Hitch. 

“Krista told me you were being a bitch. What did you say to her?”

“Exactly what she said, probably,” Hitch sighed. 

The lit cigarette was thrown to the parking lot below. 

Just like my patience. 

“Hitch, fucking knock it off. What’s wrong with you? What did you say? Tell me.” I went over to her. 

In the darkness I could see nothing but inky outlines of her hair and the cold fence against my hand when I cornered her against it. I could taste her cigarette breath right against my lips, feel the heat of her body, and it made me mad and conflicted. 

I didn’t want to be mean to her. 

I didn’t want to confront her, but, dammit, she was refusing to comply with our silent agreement that this relationship—no, whatever the hell it was—was only between us. It was not public and wouldn’t be unless we talked about it. 

And she was making it a hella public with tearing down Krista. 

“Oh,” Hitch breathed, laughing silently and I could feel every octave of breath hit me with her voice, “I forgot… I’m a bitch.”

I eased, frowning and pulling away. 

“Look,” I tried again because I remember all the nights of texting and phone calls—of learning about each other and learning how she hated how she went about things—“I don’t appreciate you going behind my back and telling Krista shit, alright? What did you tell her—did you tell her I liked her?” 

It made my throat clamp up like someone was putting too much pressure in a water pipe, ready to burst. 

What would come out?

I didn’t want to know. 

Hitch’s face was coming into focus now. 

I could see her eyes and they were shinning—bright and wet. Her lip was puckered and I bet if I had a light I could see her red puffy cheeks, too. 

“Fuck,” she choked, glaring and pushing me away by the shoulder lightly, “I wouldn’t dare, Ymir… do you honestly think I’d do that—do something that’d hurt you on purpose?”

I—

Well—

“What do you think I’m doing all this for, huh?” Hitch asked, seething. 

“Do you think I just want to be fucked over by you twice? Once by being fooled around with and then a second when you ditch me for a girl you believe you have no chance with? What the fuck is going on in your head?”

W—  
“How do you think I feel, Ymir? I give you something, right—I give you what it could be like between us, right? I hold your hands when they get cold out here, I help you try to quit smoking by smoking all these damn cigarettes you keep buying and staring at every time Krista fucking leaves you in the dust.”

“H-Hey…this isn’t fair…”

“Oh? Not fair for you?” Hitch’s voice cracked. 

“I know you’re stuck between two people—so hard, Ymir, so hard! Wow! Poor Ymir! But, you know what? You’re looking at everything you can never have—you said so yourself—and say you’re never grateful for what you have in front of you! Ymir, this is shitty—you’re being absolutely shitty and fucking spoiled!” 

I couldn’t even react fast. 

Even if I wanted to I didn’t want to. 

These were things Hitch had been holding back between gritted teeth and cigarettes and my own skin. 

She deserved to let out her anger and frustrations. 

I deserved to be told this.

Hitch only let out what I could explain was a garble of globbed-up words, half-baked with contempt and the rest sprinkled with jealousy before she started coughing up a storm. 

“Hey.” I walked towards her because not only was the cigarettes getting to her but so was her own words and heart. 

“Hey.” I gathered her in my arms and rubbed her back, letting her hack to the side as I held her. 

She deserved to be comforted like this from me. 

She deserved a lot more than I had been treating her. 

I knew I was hanging her up to dry every single time I left for Krista, but I thought she knew and understood that was how it’d be. 

I knew I didn’t stand a single chance with Krista, because she was with Reiner and couldn’t see past whatever left her staring off into space, quiet and contemplating as if reality had stopped just so she could think. 

But…

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Hitch sobbed. 

“Yeah.” I held her tighter. 

But I wanted to hope. 

I wanted to dream. 

I didn’t have much going for me—bastard of some man who happened to be rich and being enrolled in a damn preppy private school where everything was ten times harder and every professor had to give me a motivational speech as if I was some ghetto-poor child who needed the encouragement. 

It meant nothing deep down to me, but when I was around Krista—saw her smile and able to help her escape her past, make her forget things by letting her dance—it made me want to believe that I could be happy, too. 

And me being happy… it’d be if I was with Krista and having her in my arms. 

That long impossible dream was the one thing that urged me out of bed every day—the possibility that it might happen—that today would be the day I could confess or she would and I could feel how it’d feel like to actually have someone love you back instead of me loving and not getting it back. 

I just wanted to be happy—happy with Krista. 

That’s all I wanted.

**-x-x-x-**

“Yeah, I’m learning another song,” I overheard as I joined Krista walking to our English class. 

Reiner was hogging her all up like usual. Could he ever just, you know, give her space?

“A song, huh?” I asked because I wanted to know what this poor little guy was trying to do. I just had to know so I could snicker about it. 

“Yeah,” he gruffed because it was me asking. Oh, yes, please, show me your macho-ness. 

“I learned Wonderwal—“

“HAHA!” I barked a laugh, pulling Krista closer to me and waving him off with the other hand. 

“PLEASE!” I couldn’t believe it.

Reiner really did live up to that stupid white male stereotype! 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

“Get on my level, son,” I snorted, trying to stop laughing because Krista was giving me a disapproving frown, “I can play more than that.”

“I-I-I just started learning!” Reiner retorted. Obviously she poked a hole in his little man ego. 

What a shame. 

“Learn a good song then! Whatever, let’s go Historia! I bet I can play you at least ten better songs than that one.” I assured her as she waved away at Reiner who looked defeated. 

“Ymir…you need to be nice… he’s trying really hard to learn to play the guitar.”

Oh God. 

Please. 

He would learn just fine without bragging or trying to woo Krista with every small thing he did. Poor guy flexed his muscles all day in P.E without Krista once looking. 

“You play guitar?”

“Yeah, my grandfather taught me when he was still alive.” Ymir smiled, thinking back to him sitting on the living room floor with her, holding his own guitar and teaching her how to play with her tiny guitar. 

She still had that little guitar stuffed away in her closet—worn but loved. 

“I can even sing,” Ymir waggled her eyebrows. 

Krista smiled and I saw something flash across her eyes—excitement?

“I can play the piano and I’ve been told… I can sing.” 

“Yeah? Before we go practice together, we should go take a peek in the music studio. I need to make sure you aren’t lying to me to show-off.” I winked and she jabbed her elbow right into my ribcage. 

“Ugh, Jesus fuck—do you have a license for those weapons?” I rubbed my side, wincing. 

“Whatever, Ymir,” she giggled, “We can do that.”

.  
.  
.  
“Hey, Reiner.”

He looked over and saw Hitch. 

“Yeah?”

“I know something…and I think you should think about it.”

“What is it?” 

His eyes went back to Historia and Ymir. 

“Ymir likes Historia.”

“…uh?”

“Ymir wants to be with Historia. ‘Together-together’.”


	39. Sunshine on My Sunshine

**[Intro by The Hush Sound (Krista’s song)  
Twin Rivers by Big Scary (Duet)]**

“A music studio?” The instructor’s eyebrows raised as his cheeks puffed up and he blew out a loud exhale followed by a whistle. 

Krista frowned. 

“Is there not one open?”

“Well,” he put his hands on his hips, staring down the hall—each studio was filled with different music clubs or classes, “not really—there’s the old studio but it’s outdated and haven’t been touched in a while. Plans within the next few years to be remodeled but I doubt that’s going to happen.”

“Oh,” Krista stopped, looking down the hall and I could see the disappointment cross her face as her hands went to the edge of her skirt, wringing it. 

“What’s in it?” I pursued the topic further and the teacher tilted his head, thinking. 

“Well, I know there’s an old piano in there—if it’s in good shape to play or not is something you’ll find out. We use it as a storage room for old equipment to donate to other schools. There might be other things, too.” He shrugged. 

“Moblit!” 

The instructor sighed, glancing back at his waiting class. 

“It should be unlocked… sorry I couldn’t offer more—hey, Miss Smith, I am not to be addressed by my first name!” He chided to his students as Krista smiled up at me. 

A smile worth thousands of summers. 

“Well, you heard him—let’s go check it out.” I went to stuff my hands into my pockets but they slid right off my skirt. 

Ugh.

Skirts. 

I didn’t see why they couldn’t just give me a boy’s uniform. 

“Let’s hurry!” Krista took my wrist—her hands were cold like they’ve been out in the rain—that they never had found somewhere warm and safe. 

She scampered from door to door, looking to find the old studio room. She was going fast—I could see her legs just a’moving—but I could easily walk beside her and keep up. 

Heh.

She was so small and cute. 

“Oh, it must be down here,” she pointed towards a door as we rounded the corner, finding paper sign on it—Storage. 

I withdrew my hand when we approached the door and opened it for her.

The way her eyes shone and the little crinkle on the bridge her nose as she smiled and playfully scoffed at me.

“What a gentle—woman?” 

“Gentleman is fine,” I grinned and she shook her head, walking into the room and…wow. They weren’t kidding that it hadn’t been taken care of in forever. 

There was dust everywhere in here. 

The wood floors had a veil of dust on it and the setting sun was barely peeking through the caked windows. 

Krista covered her mouth as she sneezed and coughed, eyes watering. 

“Ah, are you allergic?” I asked, going to the window and trying to open it for her but it was stuck. I heaved and it still wouldn’t budge. 

“N-no,” her fit was beginning to subside as she went to the corner of the room where the piano was tarped. She daintily lifted it and slowly began to slide it, still covering her mouth. 

“Here,” I darted over, taking it off for her and revealing the worn dark wood piano. It looked like it was in good condition to me, but who knew? It was the first time seeing a piano anywhere except at church with Ilse and grandma when I was younger. 

“Oh, it’s almost like home,” Krista spoke, hands going over the piano’s key cover, wiping it and examining the light layer of dust. 

“Want me to wipe it down?” I asked, fanning the dust motes away from my face. My nose was starting to itch now. 

“Oh, no, it’s okay.” She sat down and was lifting the cover to show the ivory keys. I wonder if they were still ivory these days? 

I wouldn’t really know. 

“So, what can you play? Let me guess—Heart and Soul?” I laughed. Every child knew how to play that as they grew up. 

Krista gave me a smile. 

“I can play that and it happens to be my favorite.” 

Oh. 

Well fuck. 

“Nothing wrong with the song,” I told her because it really wasn’t a bad song—it’s just I was—Ah. 

I scratched the back of my neck. 

I shoved my own foot in my throat with that one. 

“Play something for me,” I mustered after feeling like an ass, “and sing, too. You keep saying you can but I want to hear for myself.” 

Krista nodded, shifting on the seat, and putting up her hair into a ponytail. 

Oh, so serious!

I let out a whistle to mock what Moblit did earlier and that earned me a dirty look with an easy laugh. 

She placed her small hands above the keys and looking off in the distance—she always acted like there were things much more important than what was going on now. 

Always leaving me behind as I tried to catch up and figure out what she thought. 

My emotions skewed my perception, unable to read her properly. All I knew was that there were things enchanting—things gone that she wanted to keep and things she kept looking over her shoulder for. 

Slowly, her finger did go down for the first key followed by her other fingers. The tune was slow and quiet and soft. It sounded like those old saloon songs people would play for excitement… except it was slow and held a reminiscent quality I couldn’t place. 

“ _There are children whirling, laughing_  
_They don’t know they should be scared._  
_Give me their hope._  
_Give me time to love._ ”

Oh. 

She really could sing. 

And what was this song? It was so silent and sad. 

Krista was usually always smiling and I knew something was wrong, but such a sad song so far? 

Maybe she wasn’t as okay as I thought. 

But, I listened and listened and I knew there was sadness behind it… it was still beautiful to my ears. It felt like she was showing me more of herself than she ever could tell me otherwise. 

“ _High above the glowing city,_  
_Planes make circles humming ready._  
_Please keep me safe._  
_Give me time to love.”_

Her fingers deepened the keys, making the room echo with the rich sound. Her eyes were closed, the sun was making the dust motes dance, and the sunset basked the room in gold, oranges, and reds. 

I could only stand off to the side, listening, and watching. 

I felt lost in this moment of just listening—knowing that I’d just remember this over and over as time went by. 

It was a moment I could cherish. 

“ _All I can do, all I can say_  
_Is keep you safely in my arms_  
_And close your ears to not hear harm_  
_And sing to you._ ”

The song ended with a sharp note that faded into the silence of the room. 

She licked her lips and sat up straighter, opening her eyes, and, again, she was distant, away, and thinking of higher matters—the pensive stare of an angel. 

God.

She was so beautiful and—wow. 

I stupidly clapped my hands, startling her as she glanced over at me. 

Even in the warm light, I could see the redness on her face as she smiled and looked away, shy. 

“Wow, it’s—that was pretty good!” I encouraged because I really wanted her to do another song. 

I wanted to hear her voice again. 

“Think so?” She asked, eyes glued to the ground as she ghosted her fingers over the keys. 

“Yep! I know so! Any other songs?”

Oh, please say yes. 

“Yeah, I know other songs… I know a lot…do you want to hear any specific songs?”

Fuck yeah!

“Scoot over, scoot over,” I quickly made myself a seat right by her as she flustered even more. 

She was so modest! What an angel! 

Definitely an angel now. 

“Have you heard of…” I trailed as I fished out my iPod, flipping through the songs until I found one. 

I showed it to her and she frowned. 

“Um.” 

I gave her an earbud and she listened for a moment before nodding. 

“Play that, play that. How about a duet?” I was going to ham it up. I might not ever get a moment like this again to be so close with her. Especially if Hitch might get fed up enough to tell or do something irrational. 

“A d-duet?” 

“Yeah! I can take the guy parts and you can get the girl.” 

“Oh, we-well, I guess… I never did a duet.” 

“Really? Well, I’m glad to be your first.” I winked and she practically snorted. I saw her elbow go up, ready to jab my bruised ribcage as I flinched—she put her elbow back down, giggling. 

“I should call in domestic abuse.” 

This time she only rolled her eyes at my comment and put her fingers on the keys. She kept peering at me in the corner of her eye, not starting. 

“…?”

She licked her lips, waiting. 

“Right, right,” I cleared my throat, realizing, “I’m ready.”

Her eyes didn’t close this time as her fingers effortlessly lifted and slid up and down the keys like it was second nature. 

I remembered the drum beat all in my head—knew the rhythm and flow without having to think about it.

“ _Gunna_  
_Have to_  
_Wake up_  
_I don’t_  
_Wanna_  
_Have to_  
_Wake up, get up, get changed, game face_  
_I don’t wanna_  
_Have to_  
_Wake up again this mor--_  
_I don’t_  
_Wanna_  
_Have to_  
_Wake up, get up, get changed, game face_  
_I don’t wanna_  
_Have to_  
_Wake up again this morning._ ” 

My voice was perfect with her playing. 

I glanced over to see her watching me with a small smile. When I caught her gaze she grinned a bit more, closing her eyes as our moment to sing together came. 

“ _And the conversation’s so old_  
_We can’t even muster a fight._  
_And my body goes cold_  
_When you turn off the bedside light._ ” 

Her voice was so soft. It never cracked or hiccupped—it was strong this time. I let her voice overpower mine as we sang just so I could hear our voices flow together—mix and become one. 

When it was my part once more I sang my lines. I could see her only watching me sing—did she like how we sounded, too?

By the way she smiled and that starry-eyed gaze she gave me, I would believe she understood, too, how great we were together just now. 

The piano grew louder in my ears as we sang together. 

“ _This is my idea of fun_  
_All is lost and time is won._

 _I know we get so—_  
_We are no old souls._  
_I know we can resolve this._ ”

Her fingers were fast and precise as she hit the notes in perfect sequence, moving her eyes from my mouth to her own handwork. 

The way she played sounded like rain and autumn, water trickling, and morning mist. She sounded like everything I loved to listen to. 

“

 _This is my idea of fun_  
_All is lost and time is won._

_This is my idea of fun._

_And the conversation is so old_  
_Can’t even muster a fight._

_And the feeling’s numb._

  
_And my body goes cold_  
_When you turn off the beside light_

_I know we get so—_  
_We are no old souls._  
_I know we can resolve this._ ”

I wanted to lean in and kiss her. 

Everything in my body ached for her like gravity would crush my spine if I didn’t get closer. 

My whole face was burning. 

Especially my lips. 

I leaned closer but kept my face ahead of me, afraid what I might do if I faced her. 

I felt my hand on my side slide over, begging to reach out and just touch her shoulder or put it near her thigh so we could share the same space. 

I craved to have her know me. 

I… I wanted her to notice and want everything about me just as much as I wanted everything about her. 

I bit my tongue, hoping that discomfort would push away the stupid thoughts. 

“ _Nothing ever happens._  
_Will something ever happen?_ ”

She sang. 

Those lyrics were too true for this moment. 

Almost mocking me—urging me—to act now or never. 

“ _Gunna_  
_Have to_  
_Wake up_  
_I don’t_  
_Wanna_  
_Have to_  
_Wake up, get up, get changed, game face_  
_I don’t wanna_  
_Have to_  
_Wake up again this mor--_  
_I don’t_  
_Wanna_  
_Have to_  
_Wake up, get up, get changed, game face_  
_I don’t wanna_  
_Have to_  
_Wake up again this morning._ ” 

And the keys vibrated one last time. 

I was breathing heavily, licking my lips as I slightly turned my head. 

She was facing right at me—eyes so blue and wide, mouth slightly ajar. 

“I didn’t know you can sing!” She cried out, laughing, and her arms suffocated me right into a hug. 

She was giggling away, excited over something I didn’t know or probably wouldn’t understand. 

All I could do was weakly bring my arms around her and put my chin on top of her head. 

I wanted to kiss her so badly, but I couldn’t do it. 

I only shifted my chin and rubbed my cheek on her temple, closing my eyes, savoring the small moments I could ever get. 

“Ymir! You’re so amazing!” 

“Yeah?” I exhaled and didn’t let go because she didn’t let me go. 

“Ymir, I’m so happy we met up again,” her voice was sincere as it was happy. 

I smiled. 

“You’re my best friend.” 

It hurt so good to be called that. 

It was the best.


	40. I was Meant to Keep You Warm

I licked my lips, wondering what I was going to say to Marco. 

I’d have to keep it short for his voicemail. I didn’t want to call him more than once. 

The ringing stopped. 

A lone beep resonated. 

“Hey, Marco. It’s Ymir. I was hoping to hear from you soon… at least check in with me, tell me you’re okay? Anyways… Krista and I… we’re very good friends… I-hahaha… You’d laugh but you’re right—I have a hella big crush on her like you thought long time ago…It’s hard, though, you know… she’s straight—she’s with Reiner after all—and all I can do is just watch and be good… It’s shitty…but good. Yeah. It’s good… Anyways, leave me a message…or something? I’d really love to hear from you...I could really use your advice. Bye.” 

.  
.  
.

“Yo, Krista,” Ymir came into the studio, smiling and throwing her duffle near the door, “ready to kick it?” 

I went up to her, tired but eager to start. 

Next week was the Halloween party. I was always constantly waking up, scared it was the day, having nightmares that I missed it or that something happened to keep me from it. 

The guilt from not telling Ymir about Hitch’s move was getting further and further away. 

She didn’t seem to show any remorse so either Hitch didn’t tell her yet or it already happened and didn’t affect her as much as I thought it would.  
“What’re we going to do today?” 

I knew deep down that it wasn’t even about the Dance Club anymore. 

It didn’t feel the same as when we were in the dance studio alone, blasting whatever music we loved, and dancing away, laughing. 

Every now and then Ymir would touch me and it’d electrify my body as if she pumped adrenaline in my veins—setting me into a fiery sunset that was only made of her and home. 

She made me feel like the sky was a lake and that she set me adrift in it. 

It was… it was something I was coming to terms with. 

It was something I was beginning understanding. 

But something I didn’t know regardless. 

Something I couldn’t have because of so many things. 

This life was good and I couldn’t endanger it with the fact that I might…

That… well, that I may be—

“Gay,” Ymir laughed, skipping one of her own songs. 

It didn’t make sense why Ymir would even say it that way—wasn’t she gay? 

It made me uncomfortable for her to say it as if it was a bad thing. 

It confused me. 

Did she not want to like girls? 

Is that why she said it as a bad thing or made fun of herself using that word? 

Ymir sighed, itching the back of her neck. 

“Can’t find a song?” I asked because it had been happening a lot lately. 

She would search through her music library and find nothing that could appease the itch I could see in her body—the tenseness, impatience, and distant look in her eye. 

Ymir was struggling lately with getting into the mood of dancing. 

I could tell it was beginning to eat at her, too, because she was picking more fights with Reiner, visiting Hitch more often, and shying away whenever I’d suggest we can dance together to try and get her loosen up to dance by herself. 

“Nothing sounds good,” she pulled away from the stereo, popping her knuckles. 

She always did that when she was irritated. 

I wish I knew how to make her less angry. 

It didn’t bother me when she was upset. Only in the fact that it made me upset that I couldn’t help. 

“Is there something else you want to do…?”

Something on your mind? 

I couldn’t ask it because… well… I didn’t know what to do. 

Afraid of what she might say. 

Scared to hear her say that dancing with me was boring and that she’d rather be with Hitch. 

I knew that sometimes I didn’t get the steps perfect every now and then—and that I might suck at dancing—but I enjoyed it so much and I didn’t want Ymir to tell me it’s not enough. 

It was all we had between us right now that felt safe and without lingering silence. 

If it was taken away…

“Uh…I don’t know,” Ymir said under her breath, “what do you think? Why not play your iPod?”

I laughed because I knew she would. 

She looked over at me, smiling, eyes brightening. 

“You wouldn’t like it—I like… a lot of rock bands. And sappy music.” 

“Rock?” Ymir’s eyebrows went high in surprise before snorting. 

“Rock? I never thought you’d like rock! What kind?” She was bounding over to me, grabbing my iPod and going back to the stereo. I didn’t protest because she seemed rejuvenated. 

“Um… My Chemical Romance… Fall Out—“

“Oh my God, Krista, you’re a goddamn emo kid! Where’s your fishnets?!” Ymir teased and I felt my cheeks redden as I threw her a dirty look. 

“God! You have the pissy glare down! Jesus!” Ymir was cracking up, leaning against the stereo, searching through my library. She picked one song and it was—

“Holy shit,” Ymir cringed as the blaring speakers emitted a scream. She changed it and kept doing it till she found one of my favorite songs, Inuit by the Foxing. 

She smiled, thinking it was right, and turned to face me. 

The smile slowly left and she glanced away like she was burdened. 

There were bags under her eyes now that I see her from this angle. 

She looked back up to me but she didn’t close in for the dance. 

I don’t know if she was having doubts on this song. It wasn’t the kind of dancing she was used to. 

It felt more high school slow dance than showing everyone you could really dance. 

The drums began to hit my chest like a secondary heartbeat, pumping me full of courage to take the step instead. 

I didn’t smile as I went over, taking her hand—mine were shaking because I was scared she’d say she was done with hanging out with me, that she’d leave, and I’d be left alone. 

Again. 

Her eyes were on mine and she didn’t make a notion she’d ever move them away as we slowly stepped to the middle of the room. 

Her palms were warm and soft like heated velvet, guiding them to my sides, warming my insides to her touch, and I brought my own hands to her shoulders, because that’s how it was meant to be. 

It felt right and I knew what that meant now—it meant that I did like Ymir. 

I could be… a lesbian. 

Or gay. 

A homosexual. 

Or I could just be… attractive to Ymir. 

I didn’t see anyone else like how I gazed at Ymir—she gave me warmth without the cost of comfort. She gave me happiness without threatening me with pain or that I was less. 

She was… much more than I deserved. She treated me kindly even when she didn’t give others the same. 

I didn’t know—just her eyes and hands and the way her shoulders felt soft yet strong and rigid under my hands—it was perfect. It was meant to be in my hands and it was all for me to touch. 

Hitch—no. 

Ymir… she was—she was mine. 

Ymir might had went to Hitch, but she came to me…every single time. If—if Hitch moved then that meant Ymir might come to like me…and we could—if Reiner found someone else—

“Krista,” she began, pulling me out of my thoughts as I blinked, still staring up into her eyes. 

Her face was red and her eyes were trying to pull away. 

Her bottom lip was wet—did she lick it?

Oh. 

She kept licking them. 

She was nervous? She only did it when she was nervous. 

She even began to chew her bottom lip. 

“Huh?”

“You…you keep staring into my eyes…” Ah, her blush deepened. 

I—I wanted to—it made me…feel powerful and excited. 

My hands rubbed her shoulders and lightly squeezed them. 

Ymir began to squirm. 

I stopped. 

“D—did you want to…stop?” I asked even though I wanted to never stop. 

“I…ye—no…I—no…” She was so torn. 

What was she thinking? 

It made me confused. 

I knew how I felt and it became clearer with each day. 

Being around Ymir with my heart like this felt like everything ached—that there was a hollowness, a gaping hole that yearned to be filled inside my stomach. It made my skin crawl like there was electricity on it, begging me to move my hands to Ymir and set her on fire with what I felt—see her burning with my passion. 

It was an ever-growing loneliness around Ymir. 

How could I be lonely around the person I liked the most? 

Ymir’s eyes were back on mine and instead of me—she consumed me. 

If it was right… 

I couldn’t tear myself away as my hands had a mind of their own—sliding up to Ymir’s cheeks. 

Her eyes were shining—wet. 

“Krista?”

I was so small that I had to guide her face down a little. I strained, tiptoeing. 

It was like the heat that radiated off of her was pulling me in like gravity. 

I couldn’t control my body. 

I knew what felt right and I had to have this moment, because I knew there’d never be another like it. 

I never had love or felt it. 

I only saw it. 

Love was just a word abused by my mother, grandmother, the bullies, and everything—a word they used to torment me with because I could never have it or feel it, but Ymir gave this word to me. 

It was mine. 

And I was going to show her love. 

Her breath hitched on my lips and I felt her there—warm, soft and shakily inhaling through her nose. 

I could taste her breath somehow—something sweet and spicy that I couldn’t put my finger on. 

I closed my eyes, lowering my hands to wrap around her neck. 

Her hands were gripping my hips like I’d be lost. 

Her arms encircled my waist, pressing me tightly against her like a flower between pages. 

She melted against me. 

I was gone within her. 

I had nothing I could ever give anymore except what I felt—and I felt whole, infinite, perfect. 

She pulled away first—eyes with tears clinging to her eye lashes and mouth ajar. 

I no longer felt empty and cold on the inside like I used to with her. 

“Oh.”

I smiled up at her and I couldn’t hear her breathe anymore. 

She kept staring, wondering why I said oh. 

“I just realized something,” I wandered and she was already leaning back down, kissing my cheek and then my nose—her large, calloused hands cupping my face as she put her forehead to mine, staring into me like I had galaxies inside. 

“Why I was so empty.” I whispered because she caught fire again and took me in, burning me to my very core as my hands went around and up, fingertips digging into her shoulders and back because I felt too raw and unstable with these warm emotions as she kissed me desperately. 

I was so empty before… because I always needed Ymir inside. 

I had her now and I was fire. 

Fire.


	41. Twin Rivers

Win.

“Son,” he spoke up, newspaper lowering, pipe resting on strained lips as tired yellow eyes stared at him, “I heard you fell in football.”

Reiner had tried his best with his teammates to win, but he was tired. He had been sick all week and he fell when his knee gave out in the last quarter of their game. 

It costed them the game but nobody was mad—everyone was understanding he was recovering from a serious case of the flu. 

Plus, everyone said, they’re only ten years old. 

No reason to act like it was something serious. 

“Y-yeah… I felt really sick, dad—I got lightheaded and—“

“I know what sick is, son,” he smiled, putting his pipe and newspaper down, “but you can’t let that get in the way.”

“I—“

“Now, come here, let your ol’ man tell you a family trick.” He patted his lap and Reiner crawled onto it, frowning, wondering what had to be said for his failure. 

“Now, the key to winning is… never giving up.”

“I—I didn’t give up! I was trying—“Reiner spewed, afraid his father saw him as a quitter, because ‘no son of his was a quitter!’.

“No, no, no—let me finish here.” His father puffed—breath like tobacco and onions. 

“Ya’see, you let giving up have its way with you out on that field—that’s all fine and dandy right now. You’re just a wee guy for now, but when you’re older? You can’t have that. You have to look at weakness and pain in the eye and show it whose the man of the situation.”

Reiner stayed silent. 

His father had that stern look like he always did when he spouted his lengthy lectures. 

“Like I said, son—victory will come with not ever giving up. You must try and try and try and I garuntee that you will succeed…but if you give up even once? You’ve allowed that small chance of never succeeding happen. 

“Son, now—you’re my son! Of course this won’t happen again because I know you’ll succeed and win, right?” He smiled. 

And the pain felt a little less. 

But only because Reiner pushed pass his own pain, fear, and hurt of disappointing his father, shoving it away—bottling it nice and tight somewhere deep. 

“Yeah, dad. Makes sense. Thanks.”

“Good job, sport! I knew you’d understand! Look at your beautiful mom here! She turned me down over ten times before agreeing one date with me! After that, she was deeply in love! Just gotta show them your commitment to them and they’ll turn it around!”

Reiner watched his mother come over with a dinner tray, prepping it for his father as she gave a strained smile. 

“Dear, you thought me accepting one date was saying I was your girl.”

Father laughed, leaning over to kiss her hand. 

“But you’re my girl now!”

He grabbed her waist, pulling her down into his lap, too. 

Mother gave in and laughed. 

“Yes, yes I am… I wouldn’t change it for the world.” 

_You just gotta try son—if you’re trying you’ll never lose and you will get what you want through hard work._  
.  
.  
.  
That’s what father said. 

I had given what I could—I was trying to write songs, play them on guitar just so I could see Historia smile and look at me with stars in her eyes. 

I joined the Drama Club just so I could get to know her better and hope that we could get parts together. 

When we hugged, we fit together like two pieces of a puzzle—she felt right and good against me. 

Seeing her smile…it was like movies—the blurry happiness like when you get the winning touchdown and everyone is screaming in excitement. 

I had worked hard—I never gave up. 

I still did my best to accommodate her—when she needed space I gave it, when she was with Ymir I knew to give her space, and when she felt upset and distant I did my best to cheer her up without suffocating. 

I wanted her to feel loved and happy and do things every girl would possibly want. 

But.

Somehow I failed. 

Everyday Hitch has been telling me something was up and to check it out. She usually poked fun at me and flirted away even though I was with Historia. 

At first, I didn’t care because Historia wasn’t someone who’d go behind my back about things. 

Then I realized that she never really talked to me about personal things. She would desperately avoid topics about childhood because of the fact she was born from another mother than Armin. She pretended it never happened. 

And then Ymir began to cling to her and tease me and take her away from me. 

All the while Hitch was whispering that Ymir liked Historia and was trying to get with her all the time. 

I didn’t want to believe it because Historia was a good girl—she cried over small things, she got very nervous and embarrassed, and she loved to read and was kind to others. 

She wouldn’t do that to me. 

Not at all. 

I was trying my very best for her and that was good enough. 

But when I went to open the door I saw Ymir’s arms around her and Historia against her. 

I saw them kissing, reflecting and mocking me in thirty different mirrors. 

It didn’t end in the seconds I stood there. 

It was long. 

It was on the lips. 

Historia woulnd’t. 

I felt my feet want to step back, I felt myself falter—why would Historia do that to me? 

_Don’t give up. The moment you do you forfeit your claim to victory._

I gritted myself and slowly pressed against the door’s bar, opening it slowly at first. 

Of course. 

I heard a gasp and Historia shoving Ymir away. 

I heard Ymir clear her throat. 

I threw the door open, looking at them. 

Historia’s face was red—red like her hands. 

But Ymir…

Fucking Ymir had no fucking shame. 

She was smirking and then gave a little wave. 

“Hey Ape.” 

“Ymir!” 

Shame was everywhere except on Ymir who even had the audacity to wrap her arm around Historia’s shoulder again. 

No. 

I wasn’t going to play coy like her. 

“Get your hands off her,” I closed the distance and Ymir did as she was asked, frowning and surprised. 

“What happen—“

“Hitch told about your dirty secret—get your hands off my girlfriend!”

“What!?” Ymir spat, rearing in anger. 

“You fucking heard me! You’re trying to get with Historia—using dance and everything as an excuse to get closer to her! Get your fucking dirty hands off of her!”

I guided Historia off to the side so there was nothing between me and the fucking cunt. 

“What!? And you doing everything and anything to get her to like you is any better?!” 

“Shut the fuck up you cunt!” I spat because her words were hitting deeper than anything. I felt my body like white hot liquids ready to burst and explore. 

She just had to give me a reason!

“What the fuck, man?! Get a fucking grip on yourself!” Ymir laughed in my face. 

“Fuck you! I’m not the fucking one trying to steal a person’s girlfriend!”

“I can’t steal what wasn’t there!” She smirked deeper, leaning in. 

“I ain’t stealing anyone. If she wanted to be with you she would’ve not kissed me, right? It takes two to be a couple, but one to end it.” She sneered. 

“Historia would never fucking cheat!” I towered above her, screaming into her face and she did cower. My fists were clenched to my sides but I wanted to hit her so badly—wipe that smirk right off her fucking ugly face. 

“She didn’t cheat,” Ymir snorted, readjusting her foothold, “she just realized she might not like you as much as she does me!” 

“THAT’S FUCKING BULLSHIT!” I marched against her and she backed up towards the wall but her fists were up, ready to start shit. 

“IF SHE LIKED YOU SO MUCH THEN WHY IS SHE WITH ME, HUH!? YOU’RE A FUCKING CHARITY CASE—SHE SEES YOU’RE OUT OF YOUR ELEMENT! YOU DON’T BELONG HERE! YOU FUCKING JUVENILE JOKE! SHE PITIES YOU AND FRIENDED YOU BECAUSE NOBODY WANTS TO BE FRIENDS WITH FUCKING DIRTY TRASH LIKE YOU!” 

Ymir’s eyes were wide as she stood there, mouth agape. 

And I was breathing so heavily I had to pull away, gasping, glaring, and gritting, ready to strike her. 

Ymir only stared. 

She closed her mouth, eyes closing for a moment. 

Then she smiled and scoffed, clicking her tongue. 

“Hit the nail on the head, didn’t you, Watson?” 

It was quiet—I felt the blood drain from my face. 

She never knew when to shut her fucking mouth up. 

Ymir’s eyes went away from me and then she gasped. 

“Krista!”

Krista?

Who was—

The door was jolted open and then slammed closed behind me. 

I looked back to see Historia was gone. 

Fuck. 

FUCK!

“LOOK WHAT YOU DID!” I sneered, glaring at Ymir who was already chasing after Historia. 

“She doesn’t want you!” She shot back. 

“AND SHE DOESN’T WANT YOUR FUCKING PERVERTED HANDS!” 

We bolted out and the hallways were dark—we couldn’t hear any running footsteps. 

Everything was quiet. 

She was nowhere to be heard or found. 

“I’m going to look down this hall,” Ymir muttered, walking but I grabbed her wrist, pulling her towards me, glaring. 

“No you fucking don—“ she slapped my hand away. 

“Knock it off you fucking dickhead.” She exhaled. 

“Put this shit behind us for now. Krista left somewhere and I’d rather know she’s safe and okay than beating your ass to a pulp,” Ymir walked away. 

Shit.

Fuck.

“FUCK!” I hissed into my hands. 

It was shit.

Fucking shit.

Fuck everything. 

Fuck her. 

Fuck me. 

FUCK! 

I wiped my hands down my face, walking away, and searching the other hallway. 

“Historia!” I called out but it echoed. 

I was only hearing myself. 

I stopped.

Thinking and realizing. 

It was a lot like our relationship now. 

What if I was only yelling and doing things to Historia and she only weakly echoed them? 

And that it was never her in the beginning?

I wiped my face again because my eyes felt hot and the adrenaline was getting to me. 

What if it was like that?

Why would she do that?

It…didn’t make sense. 

But somewhere in me—I knew deep down—it didn’t matter. 

I cared for her.  
I was beginning to fall for her. 

And all I had to do was show her it was okay…and that she was loved and protected. 

If she saw that then maybe she’d give me a better chance. 

And maybe one day if I said I love you to her that she’d reply it—and it would not be the small smile and quiet echo that I knew so suddenly and too well. 

“Krista!”

“Historia!” 

If I found her then it was meant to be. 

Just, please, Historia, let me find and guide you out of this hellhole.


	42. Bonus Chapter

**[Just a silly chapter of 'what-ifs' that's not a part of the plot.]**

“You young ones play nicely, okay? Be careful with those!” My grandmother shouted as we jumped from the porch, grinning, and wielding our dashing swords. 

“We must save the Queen!” Sasha sprang forward, flourishing her fly swatter of a sword. 

“For justice and glory!” Connie hopped right by her with his toilet plunger. 

“All in the name of the Three Spuds!” I crashed forward into them, laughing, holding my grandfather’s cane skyward. 

“All for Spud, and one for Spud!” Sasha cried, grabbing her potato sack cape and making swooshing sounds while flapping it about dramatically. 

“On the last Episode of the Three Spuds!” Connie announced in a forced deep voice, smiling with a front tooth missing. 

“The Three Spuds were cornered and barely made an escape from the evil Lord French Fry, who revealed himself once to be a spud but had been spurned and became deep fried in his own twisted sense of justice!” 

“Connie, that’s so good!” Sasha gaped, high fiving him and we were all snorting and stifling laughs as Connie cleared his throat. 

“What a sick twisted man,” he growled in the deep, raspy voice, “but, digress! For the Three Spuds are back and equipped with legendary swords given from the Great and Honorable Grandmother Willow who sees fate itself!” 

“You watch too many movies,” I elbowed him and he laughed, holding onto his cowboy hat, and grabbing his cape, hiding his mouth from me. 

“Vasss!” 

“Whatever,” Sasha snickered and was racing away to the car graveyard to the side of the house. 

“To Lord French Fry’s lair! To save the Queen—Queen Krista, beloved to all Spuds and Potato-kind!” 

Connie and Sasha dashed in, holding their swords above their heads, screaming battle cries as I scrambled up a car and began to run on it and jumped off its hood next to them. 

“Krista! I will save you!”

“No, we will save her!” Sasha corrected as we made it to a small cluster of trees nearby where our tree fort loomed. 

“Lord French Fry! We are here to save her! Come down and fight, you—you burnt potato!” 

Out of the bushes came Ilse, dirty and with a potato cape herself. 

“Oh! The Three Spuds! Save me!” 

“It’s Princess Ilse, the Queen’s sister!” Connie went over, catching her and examining a scribbled red marker wound near her cheek. 

“She is hurt!” Sasha cried. 

“Oh no! Ilse!” I went to her side, kneeling and taking her hand. 

“Are you okay?” I asked and she coughed and nodded. 

“Tis only a scratch!” Connie agreed. 

“Where is Queen Krista and Lord French Fry!?” Sasha exclaimed, guarding us as we helped the princess. 

“They—ack… They ran deeper into the lava fortress! Be careful of the…deadly fire ants!” She pretended to faint and we put her safely into one of the broken down cars. 

“We will be back for you! We must save the Queen!”

“Be fast and careful!” Ilse went to sleep and we were back on the trail of the evil villain. 

Sasha and Connie split off further to the sides of me as we avoided trees and bushes until we got to the fringe of the forest. 

“Hold!” I cried and they stopped next to me. 

“Behold, the deadly fire ants!” I roared. 

Before us stood a tall ant hill. 

“Ymir,” Connie whispered, watching them with fear, “we can sneak around them…”

“Yeah! We will have the element of surprise.” 

I glanced near our feet, seeing a few crawling about in the grass. 

“We must hurry then!” I hushed and we crept beside it, thinking we had safely past it. 

“FOOLS!” Out of nowhere, Lord French Fry had thrown a firecracker into the hill. 

“RUN!” I yelped and we jumped into the forest as its thunderous bang exploded behind us, no doubtingly pissing the ants off. 

“Oh no! We can’t run back out there! We’re trapped!” Sasha sputtered. 

“That’s okay! Our goal is to get to Queen Krista!” I rallied them as they nodded and we put our weapons together in the air before us—toilet plunge to flyswatter to walking cane. 

“We will rescue her!” Connie added. 

“So you think you will!?” 

We gasped and turned forward, seeing Lord French Fry and Queen Krista behind him, handkerchief covering her mouth, gagged. 

“Krista!” 

“Ymir!” Was the muffled cry as I gritted my teeth together. 

“Bastard!” 

Sasha and Connie nodded, readying their weapons as Lord French Fry held a long wooden ruler. 

“You will never defeat me!” He grinned. 

“We will kill you!”

“No!” Queen Krista pulled the gag away and was up, trying to defend French Fry. 

“H—He’s my twin!”

“GASP!” Connie shouted as Sasha and us were startled in surprise. 

“TWIN!?” Sasha exclaimed. 

“Yes, my twin! And his name is Armin! An evil spirit has cursed him—the evil spirit of the real Lord French Fry! The only way we can save him is using the Lord French Fry’s only weakness!”

“What?! What is that!?” I had to use all my will from slaying the evil man. 

“You will never find out!” Armin cackled. 

“We’re doomed!” Connie yelled in panic. 

“No,” Sasha took a step forward, throwing down her fly swatter, “I’ve trained all my life for this.”

“What!?”

“You imbecile! Are you mad?!” Armin growled. 

“No…for my family had a secret weapon we made all the time! One that is your one and only weakness!”

“What?!...No…don’t tell me—Braus?” 

“I will extinguish you! LIKE A BRAUS!” Sasha pulled a hidden ketchup container from behind her back and squirted it at Armin. 

“NOOOOOOO! MY ONLY WEAKNESS!” 

He fell down, exterminated. 

“Armin!” Krista cried and went down to him as we all crowded him. 

“Is he alive?!” Connie asked. 

And Armin’s eyes fluttered open and he gasped and then smiled big. 

“I’ve returned! My sister! Oh, thank you, the Three Spuds! You’ve saved me!” His eyes teared up. 

“We’ve saved the land!” Connie jumped up and around, dancing, and Sasha joining him by hooking her arm with his and skipping in circles. 

“Krista!” I took her into my arms and she hugged me back, equally happy. 

“My Spud!” Krista held onto me and then pulled her head away. 

“You’ve saved my kingdom, my people, and now my brother! You are so valiant and amazing!”

“It is what I do!” I grinned the most handsome smile I ever had. 

“NOW KISS!” Armin was already on his feet and shoved our faces forward, sealing the moment in it. 

“EW! COOTIES!” Connie had his hands cupped around his mouth, yelling it until Sasha slapped his shoulder. 

“They can’t get cooties! It’s only if boys kiss girls and girls kiss boys. Duh.”

“Oh…”

“Now Ymir, you must marry my sister! It’s your reward!” Armin put his hands on his hips as Krista was hiding her embarrassed face into my chest. 

I scolded him. 

“Wh—you can’t make us kiss! And then marry!”

“What…you don’t want to marry me?” Krista shot her head up. 

“No! I do! I—UGH!” I grabbed my potato sack and hid it over my face, red-faced. 

“Ymir is embarrassed! Ymir likes Krista! Hah!” Connie mocked, jumping around them. 

“Ymir loves Krista! Ymir loves Krista!” Sasha joined in and soon Armin was laughing, too. 

“Ymir…will you really marry me?” Krista asked, grabbing the potato sack and making me peek down at her. 

“…Y-Y-Yes! When this is all over, we will get married!”

And so ended the awe-inspiring, daring, and climatic story of the Three Spuds and the quest to save Queen Historia from the evil Lord French Fry.


	43. The Ocean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have noticed, three or four of the last chapters were deleted due to inconsistency. 
> 
> To be honest, I refused to work on this further until I figured out why I couldn't bring myself to write it. Eventually, I saw the flaws of the last few chapters and took a month or two to see if I could somehow make it work, but I found that it'd alter the story too much. So, I ask for your forgiveness as I delete what didn't go with the story, and continue it how I originally wanted it.

“Historia?” There was a voice outside my room. On my side table, the clock read one a.m. I closed my eyes, attempting to sleep it through, because I didn’t want to see anyone.

Let alone hear Armin rave on about what he heard. 

My stomach felt sick, rolling and thrashing, making my mind race and my palms sweat as I tried to find ways to hide from the Halloween party tomorrow. 

“Historia… may I come in?” Armin knocked again. 

He even lightly shook the doorknob, finding it locked. Even if he could somehow picklock it, the chair would keep most out, too. 

Every small knock was like the nail in the coffin. I felt the hot burn of tears swelling in my eyes and I couldn’t stand what the knocking was doing to me—I didn’t want people to see my like this, because I’d see it all over again. 

I could already envision Ymir’s angry look, how she’d peer at me between Reiner’s accusations, and how Reiner’s usual smile was a worn thin line with the veins in his neck popping, and how it was all my fault. 

Why did I kiss her? 

Kiss me. 

I don’t want to be alone anymore. 

Why did I think a kiss would mean she wouldn’t leave me? It didn’t make sense. 

Somewhere deep within me, I did know the answer— my thoughts were childish to think Ymir and I were anything like fairytales. A simple kiss from her didn’t mean she’d be my happily ever after. 

I held my face, squeezing my eyes shut, and I dug my nails into my face, feeling the skin grow hot under them. 

“Historia… I know you’re inside…I can hear your stereo,” Armin didn’t stop with his faint knocks, but I wouldn’t let him in. The last thing I ever wanted to happened had happened—I betrayed someone’s trust and respect by kissing Ymir, and not only that but my father would definitely not approve of my actions. 

I was Historia Reiss—the responsible and kind girl who pleased everyone. Not for the sake of it, but because it also brought me great happiness to hear someone actually tell me I was a good and worthy person. I had to prove to the world my mother was wrong—that I would amount to something and become worthy.

And I fucked up my perfectly good start. 

“Historia,” I heard Armin’s body thud against the door and he slid down, quiet. A prolonged period of time stretched between us to where I thought I didn’t hear him leave until he exhaled loudly. 

“Reiner messaged me, asking how I found out I was bisexual.” Armin started. Hearing those shameful words finally out loud made me flinch, but not out of disgust. I was caught off guard that Armin would ever admit it vocally, let alone in our home. I wondered if it ever hurt him to say it, knowing how their father disapproved of it. 

“I knew there was more to it and asked… he told me…” Again, there was only silence between us. I don’t know if he was waiting for me to admit something, but we both understood that I wouldn’t. 

I had hurt Reiner, the good guy of the school, the guy who everyone was friends with and respected. In essence, I became the bitch that hurts the good guys. I knew it well enough. 

“And that’s okay,” Armin spoke up again. 

Something rumbled in my stomach—something that I wished I could cling to. It would’ve been the very thing that would’ve made me just as brave as Armin, but it was gone before I could recognize it. 

“Sometimes, it takes some experimenting to know who we are. I just knew right away, but, I know it’s very hard for you—if you feel that way, that is,” Armin kept talking as I cried into my pillow, wishing I did let him in after all. 

Maybe if I didn’t keep hiding from him we would’ve been friends by now. We could’ve been real siblings. 

“I don’t know who Ymir is personally, but I know people talk bad about her… I just want you to know, Historia, that I care…alright? And, it might not mean much, but I support you in your happiness. Even if it’s with Reiner or Ymir.” Armin shuffled, standing up as I bit my pillow, wishing I was better—that none of this had happened. My feet and legs were sore from running as far as I could from the school to only eventually be picked up by Pixis at a convenience store. 

I was such a coward. 

I couldn’t bear to watch Ymir and Reiner fight—I didn’t want to think of what I might’ve stupidly said, I didn’t want to face Reiner’s wrath, or Ymir’s sought-out validation of our potential relationship. 

I was so stupid as I recalled all our memories and what we did during our dance sessions. It was all blatantly clear that I had a thing for her—how could she have not know?

Did that mean she actually liked me, too, or was she just fooling around with me?

No matter how I tried, I couldn’t brush it all off as easy as experimentation. That would’ve been fine to say to Reiner, who was all understanding, but it was more than that. I could taste it on her lips when we kissed…

It was much more than just us caught in the heat of the moment. And because of it, I couldn’t and wouldn’t lie. 

I didn’t want to—but what choice do I have? Reiner could spread rumors, Bertolt could yell at me, I could lose my friends I made… but, if I kept being a good girl, I might lose Ymir, Sasha, and Ilse…

I ignored Armin’s last few little knocks as I whimpered, wishing I wasn’t so fucking stupid. 

I ruined it all.

**-x-x-x-**

I skipped school that day, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

I received a text from the same unknown number that says they’re a ‘friend’.  
‘What’s going on?’

And it seemed another person somehow got ahold of my number. 

‘You’re a real piece of work, you know that?’ 

I only gave it out to Ymir, Reiner, Bertolt, Armin, and Jean, but who knew if they gave it to others now that I hurt Reiner? I didn’t respond to it nor did I want to fancy who it was from—the possibilities were endless. Each one was just a pain in a different place. 

However, there was a girl from dance who messaged, too, worried. 

‘Are you going to make it? : ( ‘

It took all day to gather the courage and message back. 

‘I don’t know. Not feeling well’

‘Oh, I hope you feel okay! It isn’t dance without you and Ymir!’

It only made me realize how deep I was in it—if I didn’t go tonight then Reiner would be alone, and so would Ymir, but if I went then I had to deal with both of them. 

Maybe not Ymir since she did say she might head back home right after, but there was still Reiner… 

I spent the whole day thinking of what to say to him, but I was drawing blanks. Nothing felt right but I knew he didn’t deserve what he saw. Probably didn’t help I was ignoring his texts, asking if I was still going to the dance with him tonight. 

I didn’t know if it was a trap so he could get ahold of me and scream at me, or if he was trying to forget about it.

“Historia?” The knock came and I went rigid as I marched over to the door and opening it, smiling. 

“Something wrong, Armin?” I must’ve scared him because he jolted upwards, analyzing me. 

“Not at all…you?” He asked, uncertain.

“I’m nervous for the dance tonight,” I exhaled, letting him in and walking back to the bathroom, “scared I might mess up.”

I knew this wasn’t what he was expecting or wanting to hear, but he must’ve understood and avoided the topic entirely. 

“I was just seeing if you were coming since you were sick this morning. We’ll be leaving soon,” Armin slowly left the room, glancing over his shoulder repeatedly. 

“I feel a lot better now.” I forced my smile and kept it even after he left. I applied the lipstick onto my lips, willing myself to slip into the happy Historia they knew.

**-x-x-x-**

“Remember, students,” there was a woman outside, standing in front of the school doors near the admittance booth, “it must be boy-girl coupling to be let in—singles welcome!”

Armin had me beside him, waiting for the line to move. 

“I don’t see him anywhere,” I whispered and Armin glanced about, too, searching, but Reiner was nowhere to be seen. 

“Did you want to see him?” He asked. 

We both knew that answer, too. 

“No… not quite,” I responded, honestly, for the first time in these past few days. 

Armin didn’t give me a hard time for finally opening up as he nodded. After shuffling about we finally got to the front. 

“Oh! Armin and Historia! You two are precious! You look almost as twins!” She quickly shot several pictures, grinning. 

“Are you being a good older brother, Armin—taking your sister out for her first dance here?” She grinned as Armin nervously chuckled, paying for our entry, and quickly shoving us inside. 

“I hate Mrs. Lowery… her damn conservative agenda,” Armin muttered, frowning as the school’s foyer was shrouded in mist and darkness, lit up only by black lights. 

“Oh! Historia you made it!” Hitch’s voice rang out as she skipped over, dressed as revealing as possible at a school event. She was clad in a promiscuous imp costume. It also appeared she had to wear the ‘coat of shame’ for her scandalous outfit. 

“Reiner was so worried you wouldn’t! Want me to get him?” She asked, twirling her devil’s tail. 

“Oh, no, I have to go behind stage for the show,” I grimaced, trying to keep away from her, but she was hot on my tail as Armin waved me off, heading off to do whatever. 

“An angel?” She asked, giggling. 

“How expecting, but,” she lingered on the last syllable before snickering, “nevermind.” 

“You know, Ymir was worried about you, too,” she clicked her tongue as I quickened my steps, dodging the other students and props as I hastily made my way to the stage. 

“Oh, in a hurry? Historia, I want to talk to you,” she playfully pouted, stomping her feet as she kept up, “c’mon, hold on! I have good news!”

If it meant she’d leave me alone, I stopped and swiveled on my heel, staring at her with a sweet smile. 

“Oh, I hope it’s good,” I hoped killing her with kindness would work, too. Ever since our private conversation, I had my doubts. 

“It seems I will be moving back next year! I come back this summer, so, really, it’s only a few months till I’m back!” She winked, putting up a peace sign. 

“Better be ready and have it under control when I get back, hm’k?” She blew a kiss at me and I felt myself grit my teeth through my smile, watching her mock me. 

“I’m so happy for you,” it took all my strength to not snap, “I will look forward to seeing you again!”  
I saw Hitch frown deeply, upset she didn’t break through my walls, but I hoped she didn’t see how pissed she made me, too—acting like she was hot stuff. Why did it even matter to me? We were two different people with anything in common…

Ugh. 

“Historia made it!” One of the girls squealed happily as the team jumped over to me, grinning. A few stayed in the back, glancing at me with glares and rolling their eyes.

Obviously, word got out. 

But I wasn’t caught up on it as my eyes scanned the lit-up backstage until I saw Ymir standing by the emergency door, holding it open and closing her eyes as the cold autumn air ran over her, but she snapped her head towards me the moment she heard the commotion. 

I could only stare as her golden eyes dimmed, glimpsing down at the floor, and then away. 

She didn’t have to say anything to make me understand what that look was for. 

Her mouth twisted into a frown, a blush up to her cheeks, and she wringed at the edge of her tank top. I looked at the other girls and saw some weren’t dressed in costumes at all. 

“Oh, we’ll put them on after!” One giggled as I put on my best smile, laughing with them, and heatedly talking about whatever they brought up—anxiety of the show, gentle teasing of who’ll mess up, and what not, but nobody acknowledged Ymir as she sat back against unused props, drinking her water nervously, pretending to not notice us at all. 

Once the girls let me go and ran over to admire a boy of interest, I could only gaze at Ymir. 

What could I say to her? Of all the time I had, I only ever thought of trying to make this situation better. 

I thought of trying to get Reiner to forgive me, hoping to regain my reputation—I thought so hard about myself that I didn’t think of how Ymir might’ve felt. 

Did she want to talk to me about it?

Did she not want to?

I waited until she gave me a sidelong glance. 

She got up, walking to a vacant part of the stage. She only glanced back at me before disappearing behind a set of speakers. I felt my heart leap into my throat. 

Fear of what she might say, or, was I excited what she might do?

It made me feel sick to my stomach again as I hugged myself. Why was I fucked up?

Slowly, I felt my feet beginning to wander over to where she was. The fear was ebbing away, replaced with the dirty and secretive hope that she’d kiss me again. It was setting that anxiety on fire, turning it into a bubbling heat that made my limbs tingle. 

The moment I rounded the corner I saw Ymir staring down at me and then glancing at my wings. Slowly, she brought a hand out, touching the tip of them, and plucking a feather off. She held it between her fingers, admiring it for a moment. 

“You live up to the name now,” her smile was crooked. I had no idea what she meant by it, but it snagged my heart. 

This was terrible. 

Here, I spent the whole day wishing to patch things with Reiner—that I’d get my priorities straight, but being by Ymir right here and now, she made it very hard to be a good girl. 

I couldn’t even say anything to her as my fingers twitched and I strained my lips. Honestly, I didn’t even need to say anything, because I felt this tension as badly as Ymir. She shifted her weight from one foot to another. 

Again, she reached out to me, but this time, her hand was near my face. I shook, scared, but I wanted her to touch me, but she didn’t. She withdrew her hand, quickly averting her gaze. Instead, we just stared at each other, knowing that this was wrong. 

She didn’t berate me for ‘using’ her. She didn’t demand explanations why I was doing things—instead, she just let it happen. 

Maybe she knew it was easier for me this way, maybe she was like me and didn’t want the hassle that’d come. 

After all, I leaned forward, hugging her, and feeling her strong arms embrace me. We both came from rough backgrounds and got a second chance.

Why would we ever try to endanger each other’s comfort? We both cared enough to at least do it this way. 

“Get in your positions in five!” The dance instructor clapped her hands, causing all the girls to squeal. 

We held each other as my fingers dug into the back of her shirt, feeling her tight muscles underneath it. 

I didn’t want this to end, because outside of here was a world that was keen on hurting us. She might’ve not said it directly, but I knew Ymir hurt by the way she held herself—the way she was unreachable yet real. 

“C’mon girls!” The coach rallied them up. 

Without an utter, we pulled away and came back into the group unnoticed, standing by each other as normal, because everyone knew we were good friends now—the strangest pair of friends. 

A sweet girl who’d never hurt a fly hanging out with the quiet, badass girl who grew up in the ghetto. 

That’s right.

We both desired to keep those images, or else the world might know how hurt and vulnerable we were inside.

**.  
** .  
.  


_Lights and fog,_  
together it made me so light,  
As each swing, jump, and gyration,  
Sent me further into that bliss  
As I saw her dance near me,  
As delirious on hormones as me—  
Broken but alive. 

**.  
** .  
.  


“We were so great!” One of the girls jumped in our huddle, laughing and breathless as we were all smiling and grinning. Even Ymir was in the group, hugged tight between our classmates, chuckling.

“Historia?” 

I jumped up, dying a little inside as I saw Reiner at the entrance of the stage, flowers in hand. He wore a fancy suit as he smiled when I noticed him. 

All the girls were whispering, pushing me towards him, and cooing, causing Reiner to turn red, nervous. 

“I figured I’d get flowers for your first performance!” He offered them—white roses. 

Purity. 

He really was mocking me, wasn’t he? 

“Thank you,” I took them, pretending to not know better. 

“You look cute as an angel! It’s suiting of you!” He hugged me as if nothing ever happened. Attentively, I did the same, afraid if I didn’t he might actually snap. 

“Hey! Reiner!” All the girls loved him as one piped up, winking at him. 

“Huh, y-yeah?” He was a blushing mess, holding me in his arms. 

“What’re you supposed to be—you look like you dressed for prom!” She giggled flirtaetiously. 

“Oh, um, heh,” he let me go, scrunching up his nose, bashful. 

“C’mon! Tell us!”

“I-It’s embarrassing!” He bellowed a hearty laugh, holding my hand. 

I could only stare at Ymir in the back of the group. She only saw our hands and then glanced at me. 

I wished I could tell her that her hugs were better, that I wanted her kisses, and that I’d give up Reiner’s time any day for hers, but we couldn’t. 

It was better this way. 

Ymir did the last thing I expected her to do—she smiled, giving a thumbs up, ensuring people saw that as they cried out more.

“See! Even Ymir thinks you two are cute—but, tell us! Tell us!”

“Okay,” Reiner relented, giggling, “I-I dressed up as Historia’s future husband.”

My heart and stomach plummeted as his hand grip tightened on me and my eyes were stuck on Ymir’s. 

Was this enough to make us cry?

No.

At least, they’d never see it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What I deleted were senseless moments that didn't contribute to what I actually had in mind-- I was unaware that I grew bored with Dream Catcher at the time and rushed myself to more exciting things. This time, I will be more vigilant, for, after all, Dream Catcher isn't meant to be happy story.


	44. Dance, Dance

Reiner was always at my side as I attempted to ditch him by hiding in the bathroom, but he’d send girls in after, asking if I was okay as I stood in front of the mirror, applying makeup. Purposely, I kept making mistakes as some girls watched. 

“You’re so pretty,” they sighed, “and, you got Reiner… you have everything.” 

It made me cringe, realizing how far from the truth it was, but I tried to smile. I tried to pretend that I was having an okay time as he dragged me from group to group. Nobody said anything to me, but I saw their judgmental eyes as Reiner spoke, explaining his brilliant costume in eagerness, and being rewarded with pity and sympathy of the people. His sweetness felt artificially sweet with how tightly he gripped my hand, seething through his smiling teeth about how happy he was with me. 

I didn’t want to believe it, but I understood the game Reiner was playing—he was fashioning himself the victim so the others would be on his side, and I would feel only the warning of what could’ve possibly happened if I did leave him. So, I pretended to be happy, that all of it was under the bridge, because whenever I glimpsed around, I saw Ymir avoiding crowds, sticking to a few of our acquaintances, but every now and then I’d see her staring at a group of girls or boys who’d approach her—it didn’t seem friendly at all. 

It was awful. 

While I was close to Reiner and his passive aggressiveness, I was also shielded and protected by his odd behavior. Nobody had the guts or nerve to tell Reiner in his face that I wasn’t worth it, because who’d do that to the nicest and coolest Freshman in school? 

Nobody apparently. Not even Hitch who was entertaining Ymir and speaking, giggling and clinging to her. 

Every time I tried to capture Ymir’s attention, she wasn’t looking at me. It was like she was avoiding me…

I even observed Reiner and saw that he was ignoring Ymir completely, too, but the atmosphere between the two was icy. Everyone was flocking on Reiner’s side of the room, chattering, and pretending to not notice the tension. However, if a few wandered far enough, they’d be emboldened as I watched them, gossiping and glancing between Reiner and Ymir before settling their arrogant eyes on me. 

“Hey, Historia,” Reiner asked for the tenth time tonight, “are you having fun? You look really pretty!”

It was growing old. Quick. 

I felt my temper rising, but more than that, I felt exhausted with each passing second as if twenty people were simultaneously trying to talk to me, but I couldn’t hear a single word. It was overwhelming even though it was such an easy question. 

“Yeah, it’s really nice! It’s the first Halloween party I’ve been to,” I pulled my hand away from his, relishing the momentary freedom, but he took me as prisoner again. 

“Oh, where you going?” He asked, smiling pleasantly, but I knew something was very wrong underneath it all. It unnerved me how he could hide his emotions, how he could pretend to be so happy—it reminded me all too well of my grandmother who manipulated everyone. 

“Bathroom.” Again, I yanked my hand away, quickly walking, afraid he’d pick me up and swing me around again. He kept using his strength against me from leaving—I never told him to stop, because I knew if I did I might make him snap at me. 

And if I snapped at him? It’d look like I was getting irritated over his affections and light teasing. I couldn’t do that as everyone was surrounding him, giggling and discussing football or whatever. 

“Again? This is the third time.” He spoke up, watching me leave. The moment I got far away enough, I knew better than to run into the bathroom—that was a dead-end where he’d ambush me outside its doors with open arms. 

As I hurried to get a breather outside, I saw Ymir finally catch a sideways glance at me—and, I also saw that her hand was cupping Hitch’s hip. 

This whole night was becoming too much. 

I pushed open the door with such force that the door swung back, slamming against the wall with a loud clang. 

I ran to the gardens, hiding amongst the foliage and trees, away from the streetlamps, and regretting that my outfit was cheaply made as the cold air nipped at my skin. Underneath the barren boughs of a maple tree, I slid down its trunk, sitting, and quietly burying my face in my knees, focusing on my breathing. 

I fucked up in every possible way—and, now, I had to pretend that I didn’t, but what did that mean? 

Did that mean Reiner was going to forbid Ymir altogether? 

I absently rubbed my cheek against my forearm, remembering Armin’s words last night. I understood he was trying to be helpful, but all it accomplished was furthering my confusion, and tucking me deeper in the coffin I built for myself. 

It didn’t help either that I didn’t know what Ymir was thinking of. Let alone Reiner’s thoughts. 

I held my head in my hands, gently rubbing my temples, thinking, and trying to believe that there was a solution where everyone would be happy, but there wasn’t. 

It wasn’t like a fairytale where I could find the perfect plan. There weren’t no happily-ever-afters—there were just consequences that produced a series of unfortunate events that had an even more infinite amount of trial-and-error with no sign of stopping except in death. 

These thoughts were troubling… it brought me back to hearing my mother saying all I’d be was a good for nothing… and that I caused problems for everyone around me…Given my circumstances, it was impossible to not believe her words as they tormented me, laughing at the very prophecy she gave. 

If I didn’t come here, Reiner wouldn’t need to deal with me, or have gotten his heart broken—Ymir would’ve been happy with Hitch. Maybe sad once she left, but she would’ve adjusted better. She really would have… 

My mom really was right—life would be a lot easier if I didn’t exist. Maybe then I wouldn’t have had suffered or caused so many problems… 

If I was younger, I would’ve cried and called out for my Papa, hoping he’d hold me like he used to, but I wasn’t that small anymore.

Instead, I just cried to myself, hoping to just drain it out of my system, and that once the tears were gone that I could pretend better—be perfect Historia again. 

Oh but my heart was sore—it throbbed and hurt. I didn’t really know what I wanted, but I was beginning to realize Historia didn’t actually have it all. She only pretended she did—she truly—I truly wanted to just be near Ymir, but life wasn’t that easy. 

My tears only made the cold worse as I shivered, feeling my nose beginning to run from the later autumn air. It was starting to sting my eyes until I held my breath upon hearing someone going out the door. 

I quietly peeked from my hiding spot, spotting Ymir standing out under the lamplight, glancing about. I thought of beckoning her over—I felt it heavy on my tongue—but it would be wrong to ask her to run away with me in the dark. 

I already fucked up. I didn’t need to make it any worse than it was. 

The door opened again as Hitch popped her head out. 

“What’re you doing out here, babe?”

Babe.

“Smoking. So, scram.” Ymir snorted, giving that crooked smile. 

“Oh, mind if I bum one?” Hitch began to scoot outside until she was hit with the air in her slutty costume. 

“Oh, fuck that, I’m staying inside,” she squealed, racing back in, but stopping. 

“Find me when you come inside, alright? Daddy said you can spend the night.”

I didn’t want to know what that really meant. 

When Hitch left, I couldn’t stop myself from shooting up out of jealousy, and making my way back to the door.

Ymir scanned the darkness but she couldn’t see me till I was right under the light with her. Slowly, she chewed the butt of her cigarette, lowering her gaze to the ground between us—the deceivingly short space that stood before us. 

She could touch me, I knew, but she wouldn’t be able to touch me how she liked. How I liked…

“Isn’t it cold out here?” Ymir asked, gesturing to the leather coat she was wearing. It was a nice one. 

“A bit,” I didn’t bother with lying, because around Ymir I didn’t have to. 

“I’m going to smoke, and I know how you don’t like it—“ she muttered, lips tight around the cig, “so, you might wanna go in.” 

If I went back inside, Reiner was waiting. In there, I couldn’t escape—I never could escape the world physically, but I always was able to escape mentally. 

Until tonight…

I shook my head.

“…It’d look bad,” she added, “if you stay out here with me—they’d think you smoke, too.”

It was the least of our worries. It really was. 

Again, I shook my head, standing on Ymir’s side, furthest away from the door. Ymir clicked her tongue, fishing out a lighter, and flicking it until the flame caught. 

“I suppose we aren’t exactly doing so well either way,” her voice was taut until she exhaled, closing her eyes and visibly relaxing. 

From inside, I heard the song change to one I knew—one that Ymir and I would listen to in the studio sometimes while studying. It was one of my favorite songs she had. 

“We really stepped in some shit, didn’t we?” She chuckled, wagging the cigarette around with her lips, staring off into the ascending smoke. 

We didn’t speak after that. 

All I could do was quietly reach out, taking her spare hand, holding it under this flickering light, in the bitter cold, and covered in the smell of cigarettes. Even as she smelled heavily of deodorant because of her sweat, and that she wasn’t directly looking at me, it was more than enough for me right now. 

So, we held each other’s hand in silence as she smoked, taking her time, and listening to our song that nobody understood—that nobody knew—that nobody would ever know, that was our song. It was ours like a clam hiding an oyster—we weren’t going to open our mouths, because if we did, they’d rip the words right out of us, and make a spectacle of our shame.

_I’m not sure your words are covered in analogies._  
I wish you’d spell it out so I don’t have to play the fool.  
What did you find yourself in foreign lands?  
That sounds like bullshit. I understand. 

We knew once the song ended that we’d have to go inside and resume what we were doing, but I couldn’t let it go, because I knew once we left that I wouldn’t like what happened next.

“Ymir,” my voice choked and squeaked.

_Oh, I’d never let you down.  
I never see you around here—  
So what the fuck do you want?_

“Yeah?” She turned her head, afraid I’d was crying, because people would know, then, that something happened while I was gone, and they’d put together the pieces.

But, she smiled, seeing me be strong. 

I bit my lip, feeling disgusted with myself as I shivered, and eventually trying to look away. I didn’t want to see her anger with me. 

“Please,” I whispered and my voice shook again. 

“Please,” I was a selfish brat—asking more of Ymir than I should have.

“Please, don’t go home with Hitch tonight.” I begged quietly and desperately. 

Again, she was quiet, smoking until she gave one last, loud exhale, throwing the cig down and stamping it out. 

I felt her take her hand away from me as she stuffed her hands in her pockets, waltzing back to the door. 

“Y’know,” she licked her lips, bitter, and cold, “maybe, I want someone to pamper me, too, huh?”

I didn’t understand but I knew I deserved her words as I flinched, squeezing my eyes shut, wincing with every syllable. 

“Maybe I want my very own Reiner to run to—y’know, but with tits? Because, Historia, I’m sort of a,” she pretended to glance around before cupping her mouth and whispering harshly, “lesbian.”  


“Ymir,” I barked, throwing a handful of candy from my pockets into her face, “you know that’s not how it is!” 

Ymir hissed, swatting away the confetti of sweets, glaring. 

We bore into each other, breathing heavily as puffs of condensation rose. I refused to cry, dammit, but she—

She was so fucking right! I just—

“Ymir,” I shakily exhaled, “you know… that I didn’t grow up this way…”

“What fucking way?” She spat. 

I gave her a cold look for interrupting me. 

“I didn’t grow up rich or with a father who loves me… Let alone anyone. And, he just wants me to be good—I have to be good, Ymir, I have to—“ I never once said it out loud. It was swelling in my throat, threatening to suffocate me—I didn’t know if I could say it, because it was such a hard word now. 

“I-I have to… pay off my second chance…” It was foreign to my ears. 

It didn’t sound like it was me saying it. 

“I don’t know… why we met again, but… I can’t—I can’t make my father hate me, Ymir, and he hates Armin for being gay—or whatever he is—and if he hates me, Ymir, what am I going to do?”

The tears came then as I sniffled, sobbing, and choking. 

“What if he throws me out? What if the—he—he regrets opening up and taking me in? What if he takes back those words—like, that he’s proud of me, and that he’s happy I was born? I—I can’t have him take those away.” I hugged myself. 

“They—They’re—“ I was in too deep. 

I wasn’t going to say more as I clenched my teeth, trying to stop the whimper that about bubbled up. I at least had my dignity as my tears were silent—any wails were withheld by will and pride alone. 

I couldn’t tell Ymir how much more fucked up I was—that not only was I a handful—a person who wasted people’s time—someone who didn’t deserve to life—that I was also suicidal. 

I couldn’t tell her that my father’s words were often the only thing that ever held me back from hurting myself like I used to—only the scars remained of that on my inner thighs. 

I could say my father’s words were the foundation of the new and improved me—the one everyone liked and approved of, compared to Krista Lenz who was unloved and hated. 

“I can’t—this is my family. My only family. My first…real family… and, I want to make him proud, Ymir, but I can’t because—“

Ymir rubbed her face, holding her hands over it all, still. 

“Krista…”

“D-Do you at least understand? Maybe, that, what I’m doing, Y-Ymir, isn’t selfish, b-b-but me trying to be a better person?”

“Yes… Yes, I do understand, Krista, but,” she slid her hands down her face, exhausted, beaten, and done, “you can’t have me hiding behind every corner, ready to hold your hand, pretending that Reiner doesn’t exist—“

“I wasn’t saying to do that!” And I knew Ymir was being generous by not mentioning what we just did moments ago. 

She was kind enough to know I was in denial of my greed. 

“We can’t do that, but it also means you can’t tell me what to do—“

I felt myself tense up. 

“Wh—do you like Hitch?!” It never asked her directly, because I didn’t want to know, but it was outraging me—that she’d willingly do things with another girl while we both cared for each other. 

It was different than what I had to do with Reiner—I had to pretend because it was for my wellbeing and making my father happy. I didn’t have a choice.

Ymir did.

And, she was exercising it right before my eyes. 

“She ain’t a bad person, Kris—“

“So you do.”

“Krista, please, it’s not like that—I like a lot of girls.” She said, annoyed, but then her eyes went wide as my face dropped. 

“No! Not like that! No! No!” She quickly jolted over, holding my face, worried and ashamed at what she said. 

“Wh-What the fuck was that supposed to mean?” I whispered, biting back my bitter, jealous reaction. 

“I—fuck—I—it’s—“ we both were terrible people. 

I yanked my face away from her hands. 

“Don’t touch my face.” I stared at her in the eyes. Ymir bit her lip, remembering that I hated it, and quickly nodding, rubbing the back of her neck. 

“I forgot, sorry, I just—it isn’t like that… It’s… I don’t’ know, Krista. Don’t make me explain.” 

“This is a two-way street.” I reminded her. 

“We both are two-way streets, but you can’t have your cake and pie both, too, Krista…”

“I know.” I didn’t want to be angry, because I knew she was right—but I hated the feeling of this—of being caught with redhands. 

“But, I’d be a liar,” Ymir admitted, “that, at first, I was fine with being the other woman, but… I hate the way he clings to you. I hate how he bosses you.”

“I hate it the bossing part.”

“You like the clinging?”

“I hate it less, but I still don’t like it.” I confessed. 

She just shook her head, staring at me, hand finally going back to the door knob. We both were done with this conversation, we both didn’t want to keep discussing it—it was just making us angry at each other. 

“Ymir?” I stopped her one last time for the night. 

“Yeah?” She fidgeted, afraid to be pulled back into the shit show that was our emotions. 

“I want you to know this, at least,” I wanted to hug her, I really did, but I held my ground, afraid of her rejection, “that I only like holding your hand.”

They weren’t powerful words. 

She snorted, shaking her head, staring at the ground with a blissful warmth. 

“That’s stupid,” she said, but I could see the blush on her face.

“We sort of are.”

“Yeah. I am for you.”

“Stupid.”

  
_I’m not sure your words are covered in analogies._  
I wish you’d spell it out so I don’t have to play the fool.  
What did you find yourself in foreign lands?  
That sounds like bullshit. I understand.  


So what the fuck do you want? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who're very unhappy about the resumed pace and atmosphere, I'd like you to take a moment to think- Is Ymir a very selfish character, or is she a considerate character?
> 
> Does she always speak her mind on everything, or does she pretend she does and hides her real feelings?


	45. Like Brother & Sister

The night was colder the moment Ymir left, telling Hitch that she was heading home for the night. The relief was temporary, but I was reminded that nothing was resolved—I didn’t feel any better than before. 

I felt a lot worse once I saw Ymir leave. I didn’t want to be here without her. 

“Ugh,” Armin came out of nowhere, clinging to me, face pale and sickly. 

“I don’t feel good, Historia,” he gulped, glancing at the punch bowl. 

“I think someone…spiked it…” he just groaned, holding onto me as Reiner stared at his glass. The boys and girls grinned, drinking it with gusto as they went to get more of the spiked juice. 

I stared down at mine. 

I reached my arm out, holding the cup, and proceeded to dump it in the trash as Reiner smiled. 

“You’re such a good person, Historia,” it was like he was being sarcastic and teaming up with that little voice in my head, telling me how shitty of a person I am for trying to pretend I was good. 

I was a bad person masquerading as a perfect girl—all I ended up doing was hurting people. Even the ones I loved—Ymir, my father, and Papa. 

“We should head home, then,” I held my arm around his shoulders, pretending to be concerned, but it was alcohol. I doubt anyone died from a few sips of it. 

I wanted nothing more than to go home and hope to text Ymir. Maybe she didn’t head back to the reservation tonight—maybe she was just home…

It’d be nice to just talk to her without having to worry about what others thought. 

“Y-yeah,” Armin proceeded to bolt away to the trash can, throwing up, and causing several of the chaperones to quickly walk over, concerned, and immediately investigating the punch. 

“Armin, honey, are you not feeling well?” A woman asked, patting his back as he unloaded whatever was in his stomach. 

“Oh, God,” Reiner started to heave, “I—I can’t listen to this.”

People began to hide from the sounds of Armin hurling—soon enough, a few sympathetic vomits were had. On the other hand, I waited for Armin to regain his composure and held up his hair. 

“Nope! The punch is good!” I heard the male chaperone yell, putting his thumbs up. 

“I-I really want to head home,” Armin shivered, pulling his head from the trash can and peering up at me and the chaperone, tears in his eyes. 

Oh. 

My. 

God.

I felt bitter in my stomach at seeing how fake those tears were. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing—he could at least attempt to quiver his lip, or make his eyes twitch in feigned physical distress. In fact, he could’ve just held his stomach and pretend to cling to the trash can for dear life. 

“I will call Pixis,” I assured him, showing him how to really pretend—I made my eyebrows go up, my eyes crinkle in sympathy, and, even, hesitate leaving him as I pulled out my cellphone, rushing outside to make the call.

That’s how to pretend like something was wrong. 

I couldn’t believe the chaperone or anyone else was buying it, but it did make me think—did people see through me like how I saw Armin just now?

I felt myself almost retch at the idea of it—that I was so pathetic that people wouldn’t call me out on it, but, at the same time, I was glad. I wouldn’t know what to do if they actually did. 

I’d probably cry. 

Would they be real or fake?

I wouldn’t know till it happened. 

I speed-dialed Pixis and the lovely man answered punctually on the second ring. 

“Hello, Miss Historia—are you calling to leave early?” He was always pleasant—something that didn’t bode well with me. 

People were never friendly for the sake of it—or, I was highly paranoid. Maybe I always was. 

Lately, all I have been was a ball of negativity. At least I was aware of it unlike some…

“Yeah… Armin is really sick.”

“Oh no! How sick—does he—has he eaten anything?” Pixis hesitated.

It was the first time I heard him like that.

“Um, I’m not sure?” This was my genuine response. 

“Ah! Well, I see, I will be down there shortly. Please make sure Armin is okay, alright?” With that, he gave me his goodbye and hung up. 

I jogged back inside to see Armin sitting on the bleachers with a 7-UP in hand. 

“Drink this, dear, it should help the stomach,” the lady patted his back, rubbing it with a comforting smile. 

For awhile, I was jealous. I had no clue why, but I really was until I remembered Pixis’ worry. 

“Pixis should be here soon. Did you want to step outside, Armin? Get fresh air?” I asked, standing by him, but he only groaned, getting up, and pitifully shuffling by me. 

“You take care, you hear?” The woman fussed. I gave her a nod, linking my arm with his and leaving. I was thankful Reiner was too busy to try and ‘escort’ me out. 

By the time we were outside and sitting on the bench, I felt an immense burden lift from me—I was no longer around Reiner or obligated to humor him. I no longer had to betray my feelings or know that every time I pretended everything was fine that Ymir would get hurt. 

I really hope she was alright. 

She had sat away from me this whole night—did she look over at me and see Reiner all over me and get hurt over it?

It was so late out, too… why would she head home so late?

I quietly worried as Armin sat by me, equally quiet. 

“You…” he meekly spoke, peering over at me. 

I caught his gaze.

His frown deepened. 

“You really suck at pretending.” Armin stated. 

I felt my cheeks tighten and my brain freeze. 

“Other people may be stupid, but, I’m not—and I want you to tell me what really happened between you and Ymir.” Armin’s eyes bore into me—it freaked me out. 

They were no longer the soft, kind, and understanding blue—they were pitiless icy knives, dissecting every part of me that I thought was hidden. 

“Krista.” He warned.


	46. Brubby

“You will tell me!” Armin’s hands strategically held onto the mahogany table. 

On the opposite side, I gritted my teeth. Quickly, I juked to the left and saw him deftly follow suit until I went right back to where I was. I attempted to run to the left but he was faster and I had to race around the table quickly until we were once again on opposite sides, glaring each other down. 

“Forget it!” I couldn’t control my irritability at his self-entitlement to my secrets. 

“Oh, you two,” Pixis chuckled, walking through the dining room and towards the kitchen, “don’t break anything, okay?”

No matter which way I went I knew I’d be caught—it was just a matter of outlasting him in this stupid confrontation. 

“No! You tell me now,” he demanded, jabbing a finger into the table repeatedly, “it is so annoying to see you all gloomy and hearing all these rumors!”

I felt the back of neck prickle as I did my best to hold back my own tears. 

“It doesn’t matter!”

“It does! You never talk and you always act like such a goody-two shoes! You have no personality!” Armin barked as each syllable bit deeper and deeper into me, causing me push away from the table.  
Armin darted around the table, following me as I exhaled, walking away, unable to even process or retort with his dead-on accusations. I had nothing to explain—nothing at all. What I did was my own business and he had no right of interfering at the decisions I was making for myself. Especially if it included Ymir. 

“Don’t tune me out! You can’t tune me out! I know where your bedroom is!” He was right on my tail, pursuing me all the way to my room. He didn’t give no quarter as he slipped in with me, closing the door behind us. 

“Why does Ymir know your name as Krista, huh? I heard her a few times, Historia—how does she know your other name?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I curtly responded, swiveling on my heel to face him. I let him see that it was upsetting me greatly, but he wasn’t fazed. 

“You can’t just bottle things up! Tell me!” His voice cracked a bit and I saw a glimpse of exhaustion, stress, and something else. 

“Stop bottling it up,” he nearly whispered. 

I didn’t understand why it was causing him so much grief. He literally could leave my bedroom right now and pretend nothing was wrong—and, it shouldn’t worry him at all! I was his step-sister who he disliked since day one! Why did he care so suddenly? 

“You don’t need to worry about me,” I sniffed, “I am capable of handling myself.” 

His blue eyes glimpsed up at me and I saw a twinge of a bitter smile. 

“You might not know,” his words were chalk full of unreadable emotion, “but, you sound just like Frieda.”

I felt my body tense up, uncertain as to what I could possibly say in return. It made my heart jump in anxiety that he was comparing us so intimately in the same picture, but he was right that I didn’t know. I only ever heard of her being compared to a saint and that she was the epitome of perfection. To hear that we were similar sent a rare shiver of joy up my spine, but I couldn’t take full pleasure in it with how he said it. 

It felt wrong. 

“She never told me what was wrong.” Armin sighed, causing himself to feel worse. 

I didn’t like how it felt to be the cause of his sadness. 

“Why do you need to know so much?” I tried to keep my stubbornness but it was melting away with each second I watched Armin’s face dropped. I hoped to God he wasn’t joking or pretending to be hurt, or else I’d lose it on him. 

Armin just stared and then blinked at me. 

“God.”

I raised a questioning eyebrow. 

“You are really fucking dense.” He breathed out a chuckle. I didn’t know whether or not to be angry, because, lately, people saying very observant yet hurtful things kept happening. I licked my lips, giving into just accepting that they were probably right. 

“Historia—Krista—whatever you actually prefer—I care about you.” Armin put his hand on my shoulder and I fought the urge to shy away from it. 

I didn’t know how he ever came to care—I never once gave him a good reason to since the first day we met. We both just avoided each other and only gave into pleasantries for other people. 

“You are my sister,” he said and the words hit me, hard, “and, if Frieda was alive, she would’ve welcomed you with open arms and she would’ve loved you like she loved me, and I know th-that I want to be that kind of person, too, who loves their family.” 

I felt my throat constrict as my mind was beginning to wobble and throb at the very idea that someone would want to be related to me—the girl that everyone threw rocks at and that everyone called a bastard or whore. 

I swallowed over and over but that lump wouldn’t leave. I knew the moment I spoke that it’d be apparent I was fighting the overwhelming feeling to cry, because Armin wasn’t being polite. 

He chose me as his sister when he never had to if he didn’t want to. He accepted me as family with his kind words. 

“D-Don’t cry!” He gasped, waving his fanned out hands about, “I-I’m a sympathy crier!” 

“I’m not going to cry,” my voice held up better than my watering eyes as one tear made its way down. Quickly, I wiped it away with the sleeve of my sweater. 

Armin inhaled through his nose, fanning his face, and gritting his teeth. 

“Oh my God, bitch, I said don’t cry,” his voice grew higher and higher until finally tears were going down his face. I couldn’t help but choke out a laugh at his stupid words, knowing he didn’t mean any harm. 

Together, we laughed, wiping away our small and stupid tears as I gathered the remainder of my energy and will to finally tell him what was going on.  
“It’s a long story,” I ventured and warned, but he quickly jumped over to my bed, stealing some pillows and getting comfortable. 

“I haven’t had a good sleepover in a while,” he piped but upon seeing my disapproving look he shook his head, “no, no, don’t worry—I’ll go to my room when we go to sleep.”

Feel better, I nodded, sitting across from him, grabbing a pillow for myself and comfortably propping up against it. 

“Well…where do I really start…?”

 

  
****

.  
.  
.

Armin’s eyes were wide with reddened cheeks, staring at me. 

“That’s it?” He quietly asked. 

I nodded, exhausted and drained from all I had to explain. I left out certain bits that were beginning to make my mind hurt, but I knew he got the jist of it. 

Without warning, Armin grabbed his pillow and pummeled me with it. 

“WHY AREN’T YOU WITH YMIR!? DUMP REINER! I THOUGHT YOU TWO WERE CUTE BUT I NEVER KNEW WHO YMIR WAS TO YOU BEFORE! GET WITH HER! GET WITH HER! I KNOW YOU LIKE HER!” He screeched, smacking me around as I gasped, hiding myself from the soft blows. 

“A-Armin!”

“AH! FORGET REINER! GET WITH HER!” 

“Armin! But, what about father?” I asked and that stilled his assault as he puffed up his cheeks. 

“Who cares, Historia!? This is about you—this is your life! He’s your dad but that doesn’t mean he’s the owner of your life!” Armin gave me another beating before relenting altogether. 

“So that’s why you and Ymir always look so suspicious together even since day one! You two have some history—Romeo and Juliet shit!” Armin was baffled, glaring at me. 

“You left me out of all this juicy information! You’re a terrible sister!” He snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. 

I huffed, sitting up and closing my eyes. 

“It wasn’t exactly on my priorities to fill you in on my backstory here…”

“Shit, it should’ve been!” He scoffed, throwing the pillow at the headboard. 

“So, what’re you going to do—please, please, tell me you will get with Ymir! Dump Reiner! He’s a weirdo anyways!” Armin encouraged but his last remark caught me off-guard and piqued my interest. 

“What do you mean—“

“He says he’s straight and all but I gave him like five blowjobs last year.” 

This time my eyes went wide as I felt my mouth hang open. Armin didn’t care as he puckered his lips in thought. 

“I can’t tell if he’s actually gay or if he’s bisexual, but all I know is that whether or not if he is… that Bertolt would kill me because that’s been his fantasy since, like, sixth grade.” Armin exhaled. 

“It ain’t my fault I’m so cute and good with my—“

“Okay! Enough!” I didn’t want to hear it because the idea of me dating a guy who my brother had touched was beyond disgusting. 

“No, yeah, no… God.”

“He didn’t even act like anything happened. He’d just invite me over for sleepovers and, then, when we went to ‘sleep’, he’d guide my hand over to his dick, and—“

“I said enough!” I squeaked, throwing a pillow in his face this time. Armin laughed into it. 

“Okay, fine! All I’m saying is that everyone is a little gay!” Armin snickered, thoughts obviously deep in places I didn’t want to know. 

“And that everyone has their secrets about it, but only a few people accept it!” He was smug as a bug as I rolled my eyes. 

“Like you, right?”

“Exactly! Be proud!” Armin chimed and I had to smile at his bravery.

“Yeah, but… what about Hitch?” I twirled a strange of hair with my fingers. 

“What about her—oh, is she into Ymir?” Armin asked. 

I glared at him. 

“Okay, okay, yeah, I know she is—sorry. It’s just… I know they’re sort of… messing around.” Armin admitted. 

I didn’t like hearing it told to me but I nodded because I already knew. It was just something I didn’t want to hear either. I didn’t want to think that Hitch was touching Ymir, and I didn’t even want to consider that Ymir liked it. 

“But, it’s a lot easier to say it than do it, Armin… The whole school doesn’t know and nobody else is out of the closet.”

“I am!”

“Yes,” I countered, “but you’re not openly gay with another person. If I was with Ymir—“

Armin smirked and then started making kissing noises, hugging himself. 

I gawked and laughed. 

“No! Not at all—I wouldn’t—not at school!”

“OH! SO YOU WOULD THOUGH?!”

“ARMIN!”

We both knew it wasn’t fine and I knew Armin was just trying to help me feel safer with talking about it, but it really made me feel comfortable being able to talk to someone about it. 

Especially my brother.


	47. Birch Trees & Cold Creeks

The weekend was more than welcomed as Armin woke up us early.

Six am early.

On a Saturday. 

“C’mon,” he ushered me out the mudroom and into the cold, wet gardens. The sprinklers were on, casting faint rainbows against the sunrise as he giggled, shrieking when he got sprayed on. “Hurry or you’ll get soaked!” 

I was so tired that I didn’t even see as a stream pelted me right in the face, waking me up to the icy world as I shivered, crying out and rushing after him, feeling the slippery grass’s threats of pulling me down if I wasn’t careful. 

Despite trying to outrun it all, we still managed to get pretty wet as we bunched up together near the stables, shivering and blowing into our reddening hands, glancing and giggling at how wet the other was. 

“Are we going to ride the horses?” I asked. I hadn’t rode a horse in two years and was aching to at least touch one again. I missed the soft fur on their necks and the way grandma’s would nuzzle me for treats. 

“Well, you did ask about it once,” Armin reminded me. I never forgot but I was gun shy about asking ever since his blow up. “So, I figured, we can start doing things together! Plus, Frieda’s horse has been depressed, I heard.”

I felt my heart twinge at the idea of an animal being hurt.

“He’s a good boy, though! Frieda just called him Old Man!” Armin giggled at it, shivering once more as we finally pried the cold iron-handled door open, racing in and sighing as the stable’s heater greeted us in its warm embrace. 

“Old Man?” I asked, half smiling. 

I hadn’t thought about them in a long time. At least, not as hard as I suddenly was. I remembered grandma yelling at him, calling him old man if he got distracted or was busy fixing up the truck. 

I thought of Papa. 

“Yeah,” Armin’s voice went on and on until I could barely pay attention. Maybe I was still sleepy despite being drenched and cold. 

I kept thinking about him now. I didn’t want to. It made me feel bad when I did—a guilt that I didn’t want to acknowledge.

I remembered wanting to run away with him and of our car we fixed up, and that we’d move by Ymir and the fair, so we could always ride the Ferris wheel and see each other and Papa can talk and laugh with the other men and their other hotrods. 

The familiar whinny of horses brought me back immediately as I felt something swell in my chest—a great burden I once forgotten, but also a great joy. 

It was all familiar and hitting me now. I took a step back, pressing myself against the door, and remembering all the times Grandmother would make me go tend to the horses through sleet and rain, hail and storm, and blizzard and cold. I recalled how the scent of hay and horse shit used to bring comfort and now it smelled like a horrible memory. 

“Here he is!” Armin was unaware as I gulped down the negative feelings, trying my best to look forward to the ride. 

I had to tell myself it was different. Grandmother rarely ever let me ride the horses unless it was training exercises. 

I went forward, staring at all the different horses, wondering why we needed so many, and why exactly father had them in the first place. I never got to come out here since I moved in. Not because I wasn’t allowed but because Armin was so resentful of me. How upset he was that father thought I’d be replacing Frieda…

“I think you’ll like him,” Armin stopped near his stall and spared him a small rub on his neck. He gave him a firm pat and went to another, grinning at the chestnut in there. “This here is Anna. She’s my horse! Dad gave her to me when I was eight.” 

She was a rather pretty girl. I wouldn’t doubt father bought them from the finest stock… 

I went to where Frieda’s horse was and saw how listless he was compared to the other curious horses. I used to like horses a lot when I was younger but I fell out of it when it became a point of bullying, but I still had enough knowledge to know he was an Arabian stallion. Beside his stall was a brass plaque with his official name, Dark Thunder. 

I couldn’t help but laugh a little. I remembered Ymir randomly showing me male strippers called Thunder from Down Under. It was all I could think of when his ears flicked forward and he leaned his head over the gate, sniffing me. 

“Here,” I gently offered him my hand to whiff. His nose prodded at my hand, nuzzling it, contemplating over my scent, but his final decision was to lightly gum at my hand. 

“Oh!” Armin popped up near me, startling me. “It seems like he likes you!”

Armin even put his hand out and Dark Thunder just moved his face away, uninterested. 

“See? He’s so grumpy with everyone.” He huffed, put off that he was rejected by a horse. “Oh wells, it isn’t the first time a horse rejected me.”

Armin shrugged and went over to the saddle racks, eyeing over the selection. 

“You must be experienced with horses?” I asked to keep the conversation going. I didn’t want to think too much but Dark Thunder kept me company as he came back towards me, sniffing my hair. 

“Me? Oh, not at all!” Armin cackled a little, trying to wipe the smirk off his face. “I was just remembering how I gave Jean a proposition…”

“Okay,” I stopped what I was doing, marching over to the saddle rack and heaving one off. “I think I know enough. Thank you, Armin.” 

“You sure? I didn’t even get to describe the look on his face!” Armin chimed and I shot him a glance to show I was more than fine. He giggled, grabbing a saddle and going back to his horse. 

I had forgotten how tedious it was to prep, but I was a lot better off than Armin who spent most of the time fidgeting and cursing as his horse got impatient, nickering and wiggling for him to go faster. Even Dark Thunder was growing weary as he kept glancing over at me, wondering when we’d finally get this show on the road. 

When we were ready, the hostler fussed over us until he ensured every belt was fastened and ready to go. He gave us the courtesy of opening the barn door but we forgot to return it as we raced out of there, laughing, and narrowly missing the poor man.

**-x-x-x-**

I didn’t realize how much property father owned as the early afternoon sun set gangly shadows in the birch forest. We had hitched our horses to an old fence lost amidst the white and gray bark. If Armin had never showed me it I would have never found it, for it was only a few posts long before rotting into the ground.

“The horses should stay.” Armin assured me as he led me through the thickly fallen leaves. “They know this place. I think they like it, too.” 

It was really quiet and comforting out here. Picturesque even. I fished my cellphone out of my pocket, aiming it here and there but found the camera could not do it justice. I wish I was a photographer. It really was pretty. 

“Hear it?” He asked, stopping and smiling back at me. 

I halted and took a listen. 

The trees faintly groaned and whispered with the autumn breeze but there was also the gush of a creek, hidden in the breathing forest. 

“A creek?” I stated and he nodded, gesturing for me to follow again as he brought me to a dip where the trees gave way. He carefully slid down the decline and onto the mossy ground that outlined the shallow rocky waters. 

“Me and Frieda found it when we were exploring.” He let out a puff of condensation, glancing around. He put his hands on his hips, sighing. “It was our little hideaway whenever we got bored.” 

I could see why. This spot along the water was probably refreshing in the summer when the leaves would block out the beating sun and the cold creek would cool off hot feet. 

“We had picnics and read stories here.” Armin expectantly turned to me. “What do you think?” 

“Oh, uh,” it was really hard to say right now. Everything was covered in leaves except the swifter parts of the creek. 

Armin smiled. 

“It may not look like much right now but I promise during the spring and summer you’ll love it.” He nodded and carelessly fell onto his back into the piles of leaves. “There’s flowers and raspberry bushes. Sometimes even deer come through here… it’s really relaxing…”

I didn’t know what to do because it seemed suddenly very intimate on his part. I was in a place that was his hideout, his sanctuary, and I was let in on that secret. I wanted to share his sentiment just as strongly but I simply didn’t have the memories to. 

“I think,” he went on, “as time goes, you’ll come to really like this place. You’ll see how nice it can be and maybe it’ll become your spot, too.”

“Y-you make it sound like you’re giving me it as a present,” I joked, afraid for it to slip into awkwardness and for him to think that I didn’t appreciate his gesture. 

“Hm.” He thought. “Well, I guess it is? We are about the same age… and I didn’t know you lived until just months ago. I never knew I had another sister… so, I guess this will be my gift to you since I never got to celebrate Christmas or your birthday with you…”

He said it so carefree with a smile, closing his eyes and soaking up his little slice of heaven. 

I felt that feeling of suffocation again from long ago, but, it wasn’t of Papa or Grandma or realizing my childhood was not normal. It was the feeling of gratitude, weighing heavily on my heart and throat as I wanted to cry. 

Armin was finally and truly accepting me as his sister. He brought me to his secret world he shared with Frie—with our big sister… 

“Y-you…” I couldn’t help as a few tears came. I felt so very stupid for crying over such stupid things that other people would find very stupid, stupid, stupid.

“You’re so stupid,” I snorted, sitting by him and bringing my knees to my chest. I felt very happy and relieved. More than I had in a while.

“Yeah, yeah,” he shook it with grace as he sat up, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and jostling me, “get used to it. For a kid with a high GPA, I will say a lot of stupid things. You can even quote me for this, but I’ll pretend I didn’t do it.” 

For a few moments, he held onto me. The feeling was foreign because I didn’t get close to anyone like this before except for Ymir. It didn’t feel the same but I knew it meant a lot for him. 

“Will you ever tell Reiner about it soon?” He asked. 

I opened my mouth but I realized I had nothing to say. Nothing that’d make sense, nothing that’d give a perfect answer. 

Armin only nodded in return. 

“It’s okay… I mean, shit is tough, right? You and Ymir are on some weird not-friend but more-than-friend level, and Reiner is something in your life, right?”

I bit my tongue and rolled my shoulder, shrugging off Armin’s hand. 

“I don’t know,” I responded because it still didn’t sound right, “Reiner is just… Reiner.”

“And,” he quickly added, “Ymir is _Ymir_.”

“Yeah…”

“And?” He asked. 

“And…Ymir is much more than Reiner will ever be…” I answered.


	48. Little Things

The next week was a game of avoidance except when we thought it’d be normal to interact. Every class Reiner held me close like I’d fly away and Ymir would glance away. Her eyes kept wandering back to Hitch’s empty desk. Sometimes I’d find her absently groping her uniform’s coat pocket where her cigarettes were. 

Ever since we spoke to each other it hadn’t been the same. I don’t know what Ymir was expecting me to do. I felt like she was pressuring me to quickly break up with Reiner and fly into her arms immediately. The way she glimpsed at me while we pretended to ignore each other, it said it all. It was written upon her face. Just like how I knew mine was. 

Nobody noticed besides Armin. He didn’t comment, though. He at least respected my decisions. 

I was intoxicated as I felt nauseous with what Ymir was making me feel—a corrupted brew of infatuation, mixed with anxiety and adrenaline. It was a hard feeling to swallow and an even harder one to withstand as I felt my leg bounce by just watching her short hair part, revealing the nape of her neck.   
I didn’t realize I had my hand near my mouth, biting the tip of my index finger, and very much lost in my thoughts of how it’d feel to rest my head on her shoulder, or how it’d feel to brush her hair out of the way. Imagining her smiling or blushing sent warmth radiating throughout my body. 

“Hey, Historia!” Reiner plopped himself beside me, grinning, and ruining every good thing there was about that moment, because Ymir cocked her head to the side and glared at me and Reiner. “So, it’s November first…” 

I gave him my undivided attention, smiling, and hoping he’d scram. 

“It is.” I replied sweetly, brushing my bangs away. “Is there something important today?”

“Hm. No…” He chuckled, glancing at Armin who was helping other students with their classroom work. “But, do you know what’s on November third?” 

I didn’t like that he wasn’t tell me right away. 

Was it the monthly anniversary of our relationship? No. He asked me out on the twentieth. God. Maybe I should mark that on my calendar as a sick day so I could worm my way out of it. 

“Okay, I can tell you don’t know,” he kept laughing. Apparently I was cute when I was getting pissed. Great. “It’s Armin’s birthday.”

I felt my eyes widen and I sucked in air. I didn’t know his birthday was coming up at all!

“Oh no,” I groaned, hiding my face in my hand as I felt like shit all over again. “I didn’t get him anything.” 

“That’s okay! I figured,” Reiner clapped his hands against his thighs, “we could go to the mall together today and try to find something! I know he’s really into nerdy stuff. Maybe you can get him a cool new Bluetooth speaker or something.” 

Those were really expensive. 

“I… I don’t think I have the money for that,” I muttered. Then I cringed. I certainly did have the money for it, I realized, drawn out of my surprised and upset daze. I wasn’t a part of a poor family who’d freak out over eight dollar socks. I was well off now. 

“Really?” Reiner raised an eyebrow and I shook my head quickly. 

“Ah, I—I’m not really feeling good today. I could afford that, yeah…” God, how many more lies will you tell, Historia? Krista was slipping now. I had to get those two straightened out. 

“Oh, how bad are you feeling? Fever?” His giant hand went up to my face, cupping my cheek and then my forehead. I couldn’t resist the urge as I flinched back. 

“Do you have a headache?” His concern was growing and it was attracting people’s attention. Even Ymir was openly eyeing me now.

His hand came out again to touch my face. I leaned away from it, causing people to talk now. 

“Are you getting your migraines again?” Ymir was suddenly right by me, crossing her arms as Reiner gritted out a smile. 

“Migraines? You get them?” He asked me and I felt stupid for being put on the spot. I never got migraines in my life, so, why w—ah. 

“Maybe,” I forced a sheepish smile, holding my own forehead, “I just… don’t feel good this morning.” 

“You should’ve stayed home,” Ymir sniffed, jutting her chin towards the door, “might as well take you to the nurse’s office.” 

“Ah, I can do that, Historia,” Reiner jolted up, laughing, but his body was tense as if he was ready to find any reason to beat Ymir, “I can carry you. You sure you can walk?” 

“She can walk.” Ymir didn’t budge from my side. “But if she needs I can carry her anyways. Don’t you have a football meeting soon? Let me help you.” 

Reiner’s smile twitched as he put his hand on my shoulder. 

“I’d drop anything for Historia, especially if she’s sick.” Reiner assured, patting me with every syllabal. “Plus, I’d never want her to feel like she’s second. Though, I can’t say the same for you.”

Ymir’s eyes shined with fiery anger but the rest of her face was stone cold. She only sneered with a smile. 

“I mean, really,” Reiner saw it, though, and it only fed him to press onward, “shouldn’t you be texting Hitch? She’s your girlfriend, right?” 

Another shot. 

I knew Ymir never said it but her and Hitch’s fling was meant to be secretive. I knew Hitch didn’t say too much except to a select few, but it seems that those few ratted out the moment Ymir became relevant. 

“You sure talk a lot,” Ymir’s voice didn’t betray her like her eyes, though. She kept strong and then held out her hand to me. “C’mon, Historia. Let me take you to the nurse’s office. Reiner can pick a fight when you feel better. I wouldn’t want you to miss it.” 

I was fucked either way. 

“She wouldn’t go with you,” Reiner laughed. The whole classroom was silent and I wished the teacher didn’t step out to get copies for the next class. 

I knew that everyone was either waiting for Ymir to fly at Reiner, kicking and screaming, or for me to validate whatever dirty rumors they had about me. 

“Historia! You didn’t say you were sick!” Armin gaped, cutting through the two of them and grabbing my arm, hauling me upwards and quickly across the classroom. “We need to go before it becomes a migraine!”

We hit the hallway almost in a sprint as Armin dragged me far and away from the class. We rounded a few corners for good measures and stopped as he put his hands on my shoulders. 

“Holy shit,” he gaped, “this would be a Degrassi episode if I ever saw one, Historia. This is bad!”

“You don’t have to tell me that!” I seethed, peeking around the corner every time I heard the slightest of noises. I was afraid that the two would break out into a fight or come racing after me. “I don’t know what’s going through Ymir’s head!”

“See!” Armin was ready to lay his case again. “You’re worried about Ymir, aren’t you? Not Reiner? Historia, wake up! You need to make a decision!” 

I took his shoulders this time and shook him like a ragdoll. 

“It isn’t that easy! What if you were with a girl that father approved of and then you dumped her and got with someone you know father wouldn’t like!? And they were a boy!?” 

“Point taken!” Armin took hold of my hands, ripping them off of me. “But this can’t go on, Historia! Ymir obviously wants you and wants a good answer! Reiner is going to keep hulking and machoing around as long as he feels threatened! That’s all he is! A—A—fuck, I don’t know!”

“A big stupid gorilla!” I was going to shake him again but he slapped my hands away. 

“Ugh!” Armin slapped his own cheeks. “This is ridiculous. You’re ridiculous. Those two are ridiculous. And—no, we aren’t going to the nurse. I know you’re not sick. Jesus.” 

“What are we going to do then?” I pressed my back against the wall, rubbing my eyes. 

It was quiet until the bell for the next classes went off. The doors were opened and students spilled out of practically every room as it got crowded quick. 

“Maybe not stick around here,” Armin suggested. I took his hand and let him guide me throw the crowds. I was glad that we were so small for once as we easily maneuvered through the crowd without the bulkiness of our book bags. We were able to sneak about like bandits all the way to the main foyer before Armin stopped. 

“Do you want to talk to her?” Armin said, looking straight ahead. Through the crowds, Ymir stood near the entrance of the school, fiddling with her coat pocket, and she even had her duffle bag with her. 

Was she planning to ditch school?

“We can go the other way if you want.” Armin gave me an option because Ymir hadn’t noticed us yet. She kept a detached look on her face but her eyes kept scanning for us—for me. 

“I’ll talk to her,” I felt my stomach flop indecisively. I craved her words and attention on me. “Thanks, Armin.”

“Oh.” Armin turned to me. “You… want me to leave?”

I didn’t realize he was hoping to stick around with us. I wondered why he’d even want to. It didn’t really involve him. 

“I… just think that’d be best.” I advised. “Reiner will wonder where you went.”

“Um, thanks, sweetie,” Armin raised an eyebrow, “but, I only sucked his dick—I ain’t going out with him like you.” 

Insufferable in reminding me of things I’d rather not. 

“You want me to lie to him and say you’re heading home? I can have Jones pick you up and stuff.” Armin offered, exhaling. “Already we’re making life or death sibling pacts.”

I snorted. This was hardly it. 

“Historia!” I heard Ymir’s voice as we both jumped and glanced over to see her nervously waiting. 

“Um… I’ll just take care of it. Get to class!” I was panicked. There was no doubt Reiner and everyone would realize I wasn’t sick. I just didn’t want to get caught. 

“Fine. I’ll text you the battle plan, then,” Armin groaned, pretending to be overly exhausted, “but, you owe me. You owe me!”

“Okay, okay,” I didn’t know what he’d call on later but I’d deal with it. 

“Don’t have too much fun,” Armin winked at me and then disappeared into the masses that were beginning to dwindle. 

I felt a great weight lift from my shoulders as I ran to Ymir, standing by her side and smiling. Quickly, I schooled myself because what had happened in the classroom could’ve ended awfully. Ymir would’ve gotten the worst of it. Sometimes I had to remind myself that I wasn’t the only one suffering. 

“Reiner can go suck Levi’s musty dick,” Ymir flipped off our English teacher’s back as he strode down the hall, yelling at some kids for writing on their lockers. 

“Whatever,” she shrugged off her anger with teeth bared, “but, whatever, anyways, did you want to ditch?”

Ymir was acting very different than how she was after the Halloween dance. Back then, she said she didn’t want to sneak around anymore, but here she was suggesting it and even influencing me to do it, too. 

“But…” I was confused. What made her change her mind?

“What? Don’t want to?” She shoved her hands into her pockets and I was very much aware of how she could leave me this very instant. I could say the wrong words and we’d go back to ignoring each other. She was good at pretending I didn’t exist… 

“I want to go,” I piped, “but, I really…want to get Armin a gift, too.”

“Oh, what? His birthday, right? Yeah, sure, we can hit the city,” Ymir visibly relaxed as she went to the doors and held one open for me. 

“But, Ymir,” I went through, eyeing the gate and school security that stood near it, “how’re we going to get through? They’ll stop us…”

I didn’t want to skip school but Ymir made it hard to say no.   
“It’s a surprise.” Ymir teased me as the cold autumn air hit us. I got closer to her and she didn’t mind as we went down the sidewalk, rounding to the back of the school where the gardens were. 

“Are we hiding in the gardens?” Again, I had no idea what she was doing. She had some grand plan but was keeping me out of it. 

“I said it’s a surprise,” she reminded me. 

Then she held my hand. 

Suddenly I really had no objections to where she was taking me. 

We quietly walked through the barren flowerbeds and into the tree line. It was a lot less kept back here where a pagoda was tucked away. A few students were back here, redfaced. 

“Smoke away, boys,” Ymir waved at them and the students relaxed, laughing a bit, nodding, and bringing out their unlit joint with relief. 

“How’d you know?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder. 

“Why else would they be back where nobody could see them?” Ymir answered. Now that we were really out of sight she wrapped an arm around my waist, holding me close as she brought us away from the paved path and onto a narrow dirt one. She released me as she held my hand again and kept me behind her as she led me to the wall. 

“Here,” she let me go and grabbed her duffle, launching it over the stone wall. I heard it land with a loud thump on the other side as Ymir took to scrambling up the wall with little effort. 

The wall had to be double my size… 

“Historia,” she offered me her hand, “c’mon.”

“Ymir,” this was my moment to head back if I wanted to. After that, I doubted Ymir would throw me across the wall if I had my doubts. “What if we get caught?”

“What if we do?” She responded back flippantly. 

I puffed my cheeks up. Unhappy with her care in the world. Maybe a little charmed, too. 

“Trust me,” Ymir relented, “we won’t. C’mon.”

I was powerless. No matter what I did she had full control over me as I took her hand and she heaved me up without strain. 

“That’s my girl,” she cheered and hopped down onto the other side. I was stuck on the top of the wall, realizing just how high up I was. 

I fucking hated heights. 

“C’mon!” Ymir held out her arms, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ll catch you!” 

Without hesitation, I jumped down and she caught me like it was nothing. I felt my whole body go red as she held me in her arms, bringing her face to the side of mine and smiling as she nuzzled my hair and cheek. 

She teased with a lone kiss against my reddened cheeks. I tried to brush it off but I was smitten as I heard a low chuckle rumble in her throat.


	49. Selective Morality

The days were beginning to blur together. Most days was spent studying with Ymir in the library because of our special class with Mr. Ackerman. Though, it was mostly Ymir goofing off and making me laugh. Other days, I spent time with Reiner and Bertolt and anyone who came along. We’d all go out to the movies or late night diners, laughing, and enjoying everyone, but I often had to pretend I liked Reiner’s arm around me.  
Some days were harder than most. 

My phone vibrated with a new text message from Reiner. He was talking about his family and how his father would be gone during Thanksgiving and his mother was going back home to her parents. He didn’t want to spend his break with his grandparents. 

‘Hey, Historia, I just got done messaging Bertolt—I will be staying with him and his family for Thanksgiving! I asked Armin if it was okay if we came over on the holiday to celebrate. I want to meet your father. Is that okay?’ 

I really, really, really didn’t want to make it that official. Plus, if I had to tell Ymir about what Reiner was doing she’d flip. It was hard enough having to bring up what we did and to assure her I wasn’t letting him touch me. I know it sounds horrible, but at some point I began to notice myself drifting from Reiner. He wasn’t a person to me anymore—he was some reoccurring object that kept begging for some sort of reaction. 

I had searched it up on the internet and got a lot of lousy relationship advice, but it did pull up an interesting article of disassociating. Maybe that’s what it was—I was disassociating with him so I’d stop feeling bad about what I was doing. Every day, I kept telling myself I’d settle things for Ymir’s sake, but I always chickened out. 

I rubbed my eyes. 

What was I going to tell Reiner? 

If I accepted, I might as well have dug my grave with Ymir. She was getting worse and worse. Ever since Armin’s birthday when Reiner surprised me by picking me up and kissing my forehead, she has kept a distance. 

No matter what, whatever I did would hurt people and I was stuck forever contemplating my choices. 

‘Hello?’ 

I sighed. 

‘I don’t know… I never told dad about us…’ 

Maybe that’d stop him. 

Not. 

‘That’s okay! I will wear my best to impress! I’m looking forward to it!’ 

“UGH!”

**-x-x-x-**

“You’re back!” Sasha cried as she jumped off the hood of her father’s snow plow. “Thought you wouldn’t make it for Thanksgiving! It’s crazy with all this snow already!”

“Yeah, the pass was pretty terrible.” Ymir smiled, jingling her keys as she tossed them up and down, catching them with ease. 

“Ay!” Connie popped his head out from a snow fort, racing over. “You did make it!” 

“Where’s Ilse?” Ymir glanced up at her grandma’s house. “Is she still inside?”

“Yeah,” Sasha exhaled, staring at the dark window that used to be Ymir and Ilse’s room. Now it was only her sister’s. “Ever since she broke her ankle in basketball, she’s been on the computer all the time.”

“Ah, well,” Ymir shrugged, “there’s a lot of cool new games out. Must be Mass Effect 2.” 

“Eh, maybe,” Connie scratched his bald head. “Either way, grandma is cooking! Do you want to have a snowball fight first?” 

Ymir saw that he was hiding some snowballs behind his back. No was not an option. 

“Hm… maybe,” Ymir leaned down, almost partially squatting to Connie’s height. “Think you can take it, short stuff?”

“WAIT!” Sasha screamed, startling the two as she bounced over to Ymir. “WHAT IS THAT ON YOUR CHEEK?! OH MY GOD!”

“What?” Ymir frowned, almost smearing it off with her palm if it wasn’t for Sasha’s fast hands. 

“OH MY GOD! IT’S A LIPSTICK PRINT! PERFECTLY PRESERVED!” 

“For two whole hours!?” Connie gaped, trying to get a good look. 

“What!?” Now Ymir was flushed red as she tried to hide it, remembering that Krista was trying new lipstick earlier. 

Fuck. 

“Fuck. No wonder the cashier at the gas station laughed at me.” Ymir huffed as Sasha and Connie were already scheming and snickering. 

“So, who is she? Hm? Why isn’t she back here with you?” Sasha asked, pestering Ymir as the taller girl quickly began her trek to the house, ready to hide in the kitchen with Grandma. 

“Yeah! Who!?” Connie threw his snowballs at Ymir’s car and dashed after them. “Tell us! Aren’t we your best friends or did you replace us with some rich kids!?” 

Yet, how could Ymir tell them that Historia wasn’t even going out with her, but some meat-brain jock?

**-x-x-x-**

‘Hey Ymir’

‘Hey there. Was just thinking about you’

‘me too’ 

She didn’t respond. I waited and waited until I drew my knees to my chest, hiding my eyes as my fingers typed. 

‘I miss you lots’

The response was nearly immediate. 

‘me too’ 

I laughed, burying my face in my knees. 

‘I saw what you did there’ 

‘me too ; )’ 

‘Have a good Thanksgiving dork! Say hi to Ilse for me!’

‘Happy Thanksgiving! Remember what us natives did for you!’

I chuckled, closing my phone. It wouldn’t be long before Reiner and Bertolt arrived. 

I stared out the window, watching the snow fall. 

Again, I chickened out. I should’ve told Ymir today was the day I’d tell Reiner off, but I was scared. What would happen to me afterwards?

Many things could go wrong. It was easier to just… endure this for now…

**-x-x-x-**

“—and I caught the ball! Somehow, Bertolt pulled off the perfect spiral all the way down to the field goal!” Reiner was bullshitting dad’s ear off. Armin was laughing and being a good host by asking questions and spurring Reiner on and on while I was left to pick at my food.

All I kept thinking about was if I’d ever get free to call Ymir and wish her a goodnight. But she was home and they had sketchy service. 

“My! What a game it must’ve been!” Rod was merry with wine and contentment that his daughter brought quite the catch. “Reiner, you are quite the young man! Remind me of myself when I was younger! And, Historia! You little cherub, where have you been hiding him from me?”

I laughed and then shoved my face full of peas. 

Please end soon. 

The evening went on and on and on and I had no break. I couldn’t even dash to the bathroom because Reiner and Armin kept pulling me into selfies, celebrating my first Thanksgiving with the family. Maybe if it was just me, Armin, and dad, I wouldn’t have had a problem. 

It was until nine that Bertolt suggested they should leave. I could see it in his eyes that he wasn’t feeling well. I couldn’t blame him. I was equally exhausted having to pretend liking Reiner’s turkey-greasy fingers on my arms or hands. 

“Go see them off, Armin and Historia,” father nodded, grinning as Reiner came forward and gave him a strong handshake. 

“Good meeting you, sir,” Reiner nodded and I swore that he should’ve just dated my father with how pleased he was. 

“You, too, Reiner! I hope to see you at Christmas!” 

Fat chance. 

Hopefully. 

“Thanks for coming,” I smiled at Reiner as I led him to the main foyer with Bertolt. 

“Of course! I love your house and family, Historia! I’d really like coming around more often!” Reiner was so hopeful. 

“Maybe,” I was quick to try and leave but he took me by the wrist. 

“How about a kiss goodbye?” His eyes were practically begging. 

“You’re funny!” Armin finally intervened. He had this whole fucking afternoon to do it but he waited till now? Better late than never I fucking guess! “But I don’t see no mistletoe for at least another month!” 

Reiner glared for a moment but nodded. 

“I suppose that’s true. Historia is pretty shy around other people.” 

“W-We b-better go, Rei-Reiner.” Bertolt tugged at his friend’s sleeve. “D-Dad will be waiting.” 

“Right! Let’s go. I’ll see you later Historia!”

“Bye!” Armin yelled loud enough for the two of us. We waved away until their ride left our driveway. 

“Why didn’t you sit between us?” I hissed at Armin as the servants came and closed the doors and began to clean up after the feast and roll up the good carpet we only brought out for guests. 

“Because,” Armin rolled his eyes, “you need to break up with him. I’m not going to make it easier cheating on him. He’s still an okay guy, Historia.” 

“I’m not cheating if I’m not really with him!” It hurt to hear it. I could see his judging eyes read into all my decisions. 

“You are. Who you aren’t really with is Ymir. Don’t you think about her at all?” 

“Of course I do!” I nearly wanted to punch him. 

“No… you don’t, Historia.” He took my shoulders into his hands, staring me down. “If you did, you would’ve ended things with Reiner long ago.” 

I shoved him away and left. 

He wouldn’t understand what I was going through…

**-x-x-x-**

“Thanksgiving leftovers are the bomb!” Sasha sang, stoned out of her mind as she loaded up her plate. It was about three in the morning and Ymir was floating in between complete serenity with her life and complete breakdown of missing home, loving Historia, and that life isn’t as great as people say it was.

She felt lonelier than… than Pluto. Yeah. 

“Fuck! Get me some!” Connie begged. 

Grandma had left earlier that night with her friends to go Bingo. She put Ymir in charge of watching the other ‘kids’ because she was a year older. 

_Oh, Grandma, if you only knew_ , Ymir lamented. _I’m just a bad little girl, too._

“Hey, guys,” Ymir felt it was right to say it how it was. It made her feel awful to be untruthful. “I’m the other woman.”

“Huh?” Connie glared at her. “What mind games are you playing now?” 

“Wait, other woman? Like, cheating other woman?” Sasha’s words were jumbled up from the biscuit in her mouth. 

“Yeah… girl I like is with a guy. I don’t even know if she’s straight or not.” Ymir continued. 

“WHAT?!” Connie barked. “DUDE!” 

“Wh—“ Sasha’s biscuit dropped from her mouth. “What? Ymir, no! Don’t be the other woman! You can get any other girl!” 

Ymir smiled but it felt harder than usual. It felt—

“Hey, guys,” Ilse came from her room, tired, blinking sleepily, “can you keep it down—Sis? What’s wrong?” 

Ymir held her face as she cried. 

“I—I really like her, g-guys…” 

And Ymir didn’t ever want to leave her, but she knew there was better things than this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes people forget how damaging being in the closet can be, sometimes people forget how damaging being open can be. Somewhere in the middle, people can get hurt. People are more than willing to hide their shame at the expense of others, because the consequences are far greater. 
> 
> Nothing is ever really right.


	50. Selective Morality II

“Yo,” his large body was against the door frame. He had his bulky arms crossed and Armin could practically trace every vein and tendon with his eyes. “Where’s Historia?”

“She went out riding,” Armin smiled, peeking up from behind his glasses as he sat at his desk, reading over the latest tech magazine. His completed homework was neatly tucked into a folder nearby. “Was she expecting you?”

“Hn.” Reiner grunted, glancing around the room. “You took down the posters.”

For the longest time, Armin had posters of his favorite bands and other shows he loved, but he begrudgingly took them down after the summer—he felt like they’d make him seem younger, naive, and a bit stupid. 

Some men liked that in him—that innocent, virgin look. Not as much as they liked it when they sprayed their—  
“Yeah, I’m sort of over that sort of thing.” Armin chuckled, taking off his glasses and brushing a piece of hair behind his hair. “It was time to grow up.”

Reiner smiled a bit at that comment. 

“You? Grow up? You haven’t really grown an inch.” Reiner finally pushed off the door frame and went towards Armin, giving his full attention. Armin grinned a little wider as he watched Reiner’s strong body came right up close—he could smell that sweet sweat and hint of cologne on him. A real man’s smell—a musk with a hint of cleanliness. 

Armin couldn’t help but take a big inhale as he played it off with an even louder exhale. 

“You always tease me.” Armin doubted Reiner would ever get the double meaning but he didn’t mind. Stupid men were cute in their own ways—easier to seduce, better to fuck. They always took what they wanted without consideration. 

Reiner chuckled, peering at the magazine Armin was browsing. 

“Just giving you a hard time,” he placed his hand on the back of Armin’s chair. His large, pronounced hands could probably wrap around Armin’s entire thigh—right. They could. 

“You sure like to do that.” Armin mumbled, feeling his face redden at remembering how Reiner about took him one night. It was the last day of middle school and they had a bonfire night with all their friends. Somehow, Bertolt let Reiner get drunk and actually let him do his thing. An hour later, Armin was on his knees in a wooded area nearby, sucking Reiner’s balls and having Reiner prematurely blow his load all over his face. 

God.   
Bertolt had a crush on Reiner ever since Armin met the two. It was so painfully obvious but Reiner was such a fucking idiot and thick that he couldn’t tell the difference between ‘just friends’ and ‘please fuck me against a counter’.

Like just right now. 

Oh, and the fact he couldn’t see that with Historia either. 

Reiner was being very weird actually. Armin realized the two hadn’t spoke for awhile as Reiner just gazed at the magazine, his fingers drumming on the back of Armin’s chair, and Armin became very aware of Reiner’s chest being almost right against his head. He could feel the boy’s—no, man’s heat radiating off of him. 

“How long do you think she’ll take?” Reiner asked. “I tried to text but she must be out of service.” 

“I don’t know,” Armin answered quickly. “She literally just left not too long ago.”

“Ugh.” Reiner clicked his tongue, moving to go to Armin’s bed and flopped down onto it, gathering his pillows and nestling into them. “She’s always ignoring my texts and calls and only answering every now and then.”

Funny. 

Whenever Armin saw her out of her room, she was always texting. 

Ymir this, Ymir that—that’s how Historia functioned. 

“Yeah, she’s bad about that,” Armin turned himself in his seat to face Reiner’s direction. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Nah,” Reiner put his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. “Not your fault.”

Holy fuck—he was getting ripped. No longer was his face pudgy like it was in middle school. There was a distinct jawline coming through and a pronounced nose, making Reiner look so much older than he was. 

“You worry a lot,” Armin crossed his legs with a blush. “Maybe you should try to relax a bit more? I’m sure she’d get back to you soon. She can’t go too far with her horse.”

“If I liked horses, I’d go riding after,” Reiner lamented. “I swear, it feels like she hates me.”

Armin didn’t know how to answer that. Historia really didn’t like Reiner beyond a friend and here he was hung up on her. If it was a year or two ago, Armin would’ve spilled the tea to him, but ever since they had that encounter this was the first real conversation they had. 

Armin was afraid Reiner hated him after that. If he remembered that is…

Sometimes, Armin felt like he hated Reiner, too, because they lost their friendship and Reiner didn’t seem to care at all—he just replaced him with Jean and now Historia. 

It wasn’t like he liked _liked_ him. Reiner wasn’t really his type but he did have a good looking cock… 

“I don’t hate you,” Armin doubted Reiner would care about his opinion. He probably didn’t know what he was talking about either. 

Reiner must’ve heard because he didn’t say anything at all. He just listened and his socked foot wiggled about nervously. 

Armin felt stupid he even said it—Reiner was probably trying to forget the whole thing didn’t happen. He probably was wondering why he even bothered to check in on him. Stupid fucking—Armin wished he kept his mouth shut—

“I don’t hate you either,” Reiner’s voice was a little quiet, devoid of his usual boyish charm and confidence. “I could never hate you, dude.” 

Slowly, too slow, Reiner got up on his elbows to look at Armin. 

Armin almost wanted to die with the look Reiner gave—that look from that one night. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 

****

-x-x-x-

“I’m glad you’re having a good time back home,” I smiled, twirling a piece of hair between my fingers. Ymir’s voice was always calmer on the phone than in person. She spoke gently as if her voice would break me.

“Yeah, it’s pretty alright. Sasha and Connie had an eating competition. Now they can’t get off the toilets.” Ymir softly snickered. “You could hear Sasha fart to death a mile away.”

I choked on my breath, laughing out loud, listening to Ymir’s cheeky giggle and my own. 

The birch forest became my favorite place—it was always quiet and beautiful here. It was my escape from everything. Especially unexpected Reiner visits now that I knew he wouldn’t chase after. 

All he sent was an unanswered text about where I was. That was nine minutes ago. 

How lucky I was to not get a call this time. 

“Say,” Ymir cleared her throat, “when I get back on Sunday, do you want to… meet up…? Unless your gorilla—“

“The monkey isn’t on my back that day.” I felt myself grin but there was no chuckle in response. Maybe I should stick to not joking. 

“Yeah…” Ymir’s tone changed, “there’s something I want to talk to you about, too. Um, nothing too bad or anything. Just things.”

“Things?” I frowned.

“Um, yeah. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, okay? I have to go right now. Grandma wants me to go out and get some Pepto for Connie and Sasha. She’s tired of them hogging the bathrooms.” There came the beloved chuckle I was hoping to hear. 

“Mm that might be important. I will let you—“ oh. 

An opportunity.

“I will let you get your shit done.”

“Yeah, thank— did you just fucking make a pun?” 

Silence. 

“Um,” I had to admit, it was an awful pun, “…yes.” 

I inwardly cringed as Ymir exhaled loudly. 

“That was awful and you should feel awful.”

“Trust me. I do.”

“Hah. Good. Anyways, I need to go. I will talk to you tomorrow, Krista.”

“Okay. I will see you… bye.”

There was always that pause at the end. It was forever awkward as if something was missing. 

“Bye.” Ymir blurted and hung up. 

I felt dejected as I saw my horse impatiently watching me. I knew I had to go back and face Reiner soon. He wasn’t going to leave until he at least saw me. 

“Fine,” I answered my horse’s pleading look. “Let’s go back. I bet you miss your friends.”

 

****

-x-x-x-

“Ah, Historia!” Father was in the mudroom, washing his hands and smiling. He always seemed so happy lately. Every time he saw me, I could feel pride beam from him. “I was just about to ask for you!”

“Hi, dad,” I went over to his open arms and hugged him as his scratchy mustache prickled and scratched the top of my head. 

“Ah, my little girl,” he seemed content as he pulled away, drying his hands on a nearby towel and turning off the sink. “Reiner came in a while looking for you. Pixis said his car is still here. He’s waiting in the parlor.”

“Ah, right,” I feigned shame and forgetfulness, “I’ve been so bad about remembering. I hope he forgives me.”

Not.

“I’m sure he is! You’re such an angel!” Father put his hand on my back. It sent unpleasant feelings down my back. I really did hate it when people touched my back without permission. Mostly… I hated when men touched me…

I shook my head. 

“You’re too kind,” I followed my dad through the halls and into the main foyer, finding it empty. Pixis even came in with tea and cookies, frowning. 

“I swear,” Pixis hummed, glancing about, “Mister Braun was here just ten minutes ago. Perhaps he went to your room, Miss Historia?”

I felt my throat tighten. 

“I don’t think so,” I bit my tongue, “Reiner wouldn’t—“ 

“Reiner wouldn’t be that kind of lad,” father intervened, “he knows that it’s improper to wait in a lady’s personal chambers. He must’ve went to bide time with my son!”

“Ah, you’re right, sir,” Pixis bowed a little, “pardon my assumptions. I don’t know why I jumped the gun.”

Pixis seemed perplexed as he sat the tea and biscotti down. 

“I must attend to a phone call. Excuse me.” Pixis left back into the kitchen as father walked over, snatching a treat and stuffing his mouth. 

“Hm, let’s go pay them a visit.” Father nodded, sucking on his crumby fingers. “The boys are good friends, y’know.”

“Armin told me,” amongst other things. I smiled, walking beside my father as he escorted me down Armin’s part of the mansion. “He said he knew him since he was very young.”

“Of course! We know the Braun family rather well—Reiner’s father and me used to be thick as thieves as kids! Riding our horses and going everywhere the sun touched—it’s no doubt that Armin and Reiner share the same bond!” Father was rambling as he usually did but it was hard not to smile when he was so passionate about their friendship. 

“Armin is a smaller boy, I’m afraid. He isn’t much in stature but he at least makes it up with confidence and intellect and charisma! Now, when Reiner began to become a man, I hoped he’d rub off on Armin and Armin would pick up his good habits of working out and playing good sports like football. While it didn’t do much yet, I think Armin will really come around to it! It’s good to play sports with your friends! If he’s anything like me, and like how Reiner is just like his father, those two will be like brothers and it’s important to nurture that relationship!”

We were nearing Armin’s room and I could hear Armin’s phone going off. It kept ringing and ringing as we got closer. 

“It’s hard to have those deeply rooted relationships with you’re older! People become bitter and apathetic! Though, you are an angel, a ray of sunshine, Historia—you will always be this sweet girl and soon woman to your friends and future husband!” Father continued on and on as we got to the door. 

“I just hope that Reiner and Armin don’t forget their friendship,” he emphasized, “I know for awhile he stopped coming around, but I figured he was busy with summer activities and football, but I am so glad, my dear, that they—“ father opened Armin’s door. 

And I gaped as I saw Reiner’s sweaty, dimpled ass ramming into Armin. Reiner’s hand was reaching around Armin’s front, jerking him quick and hard. 

I shot father a look and saw his whole goes white as I averted my gaze to the ground. I saw naked bodies—I saw a man’s hand—I heard Papa’s yell and the bruises on my shoulder and neck throb in pain, the saliva—

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!?” Father’s bellow shook the house as Armin’s phone kept ringing like a lifeline as I ran away, feeling tears run down my face. 

I didn’t want to think of it—

Not the night. Not that. I was over it—

“HISTORIA!” Reiner’s voice was strained as Armin screeched back and everything became a blur as the world felt surreal. 

What was going on?


	51. The End of the Knife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Mentioning of Rape / Molestation

Nobody came to my room and I didn’t dare venture out after the incident. I kept to myself and I held my phone in my hand, checking it every five minutes, waiting to see a text from Reiner or Armin or father… or Ymir. 

I wasn’t close enough to the front of the house to see if Reiner ever left. I didn’t hear father yell afterwards and even Pixis didn’t dare bother me. It was far too late into the night by now anyways. 

I flipped my phone open, staring at my messages, but nothing came. I closed it and put it near my pillow as I rolled onto my back, staring up at the ceiling with restless eyes. 

How could I even try to sleep after seeing that? Reiner’s ass was burned into my mind in ways I didn’t appreciate, but what was worst was seeing his… 

Armin’s…

It repulsed me. I literally felt physically ill because I knew how those felt in hands. I knew how teeth and tongues could hurt and burn like knives and acid. The familiar feeling of maggots gnawing inside of me made me feel weak and repulsed of being in my own skin. It reminded me that my body—this body was a cage of memories. That not long ago this body was taken from me.

I hugged myself close to a pillow, burying my face into its soft fabric and curling around it. 

My body felt gross. It felt like I didn’t have one and I was stuck in a rotting carcass and I had to pretend that it was okay, because if I said it out loud—if I even put a word to it—I would have to admit it. 

I would have to admit I was really—not okay. 

Voices in my head tormented me as I squeezed my eyes shut—if I hated it, why didn’t I fight back? 

Why did I freeze up? 

If I didn’t pretend it never—Papa wouldn’t have gotten hurt. In a long time, I wondered if Papa was okay. He had fallen down the stairs and broke something but I never got word from him. I couldn’t contact him even if I wanted to because father said I needn’t look back. 

Only look forward.

Forward.

My fingers went to my thighs, clawing at them, trying to stoke something in my enstranged body—pain, hatred, anger, sadness. Something other than this disgusted numbness.

But I couldn’t.

How I could move forward if my body was chained to that bed from so long ago? With things I never wanted to remember, things I hated myself over—things that my mother had done to me. I tried so hard to forget it all and pretend that the present was all that mattered, but I guess I have to admit. 

I wasn’t okay. 

The only thing that I looked forward to was talking to Ymir. 

Seeing her smile, hearing her laugh, feeling her arms around me, her fingers interlocked in mine—it was all that made me happy. It was the only thing that made me feel safe. 

All I wanted was to be around her. It made me forget who I was in between those years we were apart. 

Sometimes, I truly feel like Ymir is the only reason I wanted to try and live. She made it all worth enduring. 

As my eyes stared into the darkness of my room, I wondered if she knew how much I liked her.

Did she like me as much as I liked her?

Probably not. She’d wouldn’t quite understand it. 

She might’ve stabbed a person and went to Juvenile, but at least she wanted to live and had friends and purpose. 

I envied every single thing about her—her stubbornness to opposition, her unflinching eyes, and her strength to move mountains for everything she wanted. 

She was never a victim and didn’t pity herself, but I did.

While she made me feel happy, I felt so small around her. I felt the weakest and most vulnerable, because, in her shadow, I knew in my heart that I was a spineless victim who couldn’t fight for what I wanted.

And I hated myself more than I ever did before.

**-x-x-x-**

Ymir flexed her fingers over her glass of Coke. Every time the bell over the door jingled, her eyes would shoot to the diner’s entrance, hoping to see the familiar blonde.

It was ridiculous—she removed her hands from her drink and began to pop them—it was fucking ridiculous. Absolutely stupid. She had only been away from Krista for three days but it felt like an eternity. Every part of her body was jittery and her fucking leg wouldn’t stop impatiently shaking and bobbing. She felt like she was going to explode and cry if that bell rang one more time and it wasn’t her.

Ymir’s eyes shot to the door just in time to see Krista entering, glancing around as a waitress greeted her. Ymir ducked her head low and fished the straw into her mouth, sucking the pop for dear life. Act cool. Yeah. There we go. 

In seconds, Krista slid into the opposite side of the booth. Ymir glanced up, feigning surprise, but her casual smile dropped when she saw Krista’s face. The girl’s eyes were dark with circles and her skin was red and blotchy near her cheeks… like she had been crying all night…

“Hey,” Ymir pushed her pop out of the way and reached over with her hands. Krista barely registered the affection as she tiredly peered up at her, fingers twitching before weakly clasping Ymir’s. “Hey, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“I didn’t sleep well,” Krista exhaled, listlessly staring at the table. “Just… sort of…” 

Her voice trailed and she didn’t even pick up where she left off as her eyes glazed over, staring at nothing in particular. It was like her body was on autopilot. 

“Just sort of…?” Ymir pried a little. “What’s up?”

“Eh,” Krista’s eyes blinked and wandered up to Ymir’s face, “I don’t know.”

Did she not know what she just said?

“Mm you want some coffee?” Ymir asked. “I can pay.”

“I don’t really like coffee,” Krista shook her head and began to withdraw her hands, but Ymir’s grip tightened and the blonde stayed. Her eyes went to their hands and Ymir could see a blush brush over her cheeks. 

“I don’t mean to sound like an ass, Krista, but, uh, you look like shit and I think you need coffee… how about a smoothie? Anything?” Ymir pushed a menu to her. “Just say the word and you can get it.”

Krista shook her head. 

“If I eat something I feel like I’d throw it up.” She mentioned and Ymir realized she didn’t ask if Krista was sick. 

“Ah, I getcha.” Ymir hummed, rubbing her thumb across the back of Historia’s hands. 

Krista always had this way of making things hard. Originally, she was going to tell Krista that… she had to dump Reiner or get lost, because Ymir knew she couldn’t just be friends. And, Ymir had a special way of shaking girls off by being an asshole until they ran away. It made things a little easier for them to get over her. 

Plus, it was better to hurt over hating herself for being a jerk than trying to avoid a spurned crush. 

“Do you want a soup? It should taste good and be easy on the stomach, Krista. I don’t want you to be sick on an empty stomach. It just makes things worse, y’know? It’s… mm, Krista? Hey… Hey, Krista?” Ymir stopped, frowning and furrowing her brows as Krista was far, far away. Slowly, her head bobbed forward and she flinched, glancing at Ymir.

“Ah,” she realized Ymir was talking to her, “did you say something?”

“Yeah, um, I said your name like three times,” now Ymir was getting really worried. “Dude… you didn’t have to come if you needed to sleep. You could’ve just texted or something?”

Krista looked upset. 

“I’m sorry,” she eased, shoulders slumping. “I just… I don’t mean to be like this…”

“Hey, what’s there to be sorry about?” Ymir cleared her throat, still concerned. “You’re alright.”

“I know,” there was some irritability in her voice, “but, we planned to meet up… and I’m wasting your time…”

Ymir was surprised at Krista’s response. She never thought the other girl would think like that. If anything, Ymir felt like she would’ve been the one who would waste Krista’s time. The blonde had a huge friend circle, was an angel, super smart, and did all these extracurricular activities. Yet, here she was, hanging out with the school’s most hated kid. Emphasis on the unsaid loser part, too. Ouch. 

“No! No, no, no, no,” Ymir groaned, feeling embarrassed. She wasn’t about to admit she wasn’t cool. That’d be… very pathetic. “You’re not wasting my time. You never do.”

Krista’s eyes lit up but they were overshadowed by the dark bags underneath them. Her hands held Ymir’s if only a little tighter. She didn’t say anything but the calm that was behind her blue eyes said everything. 

“Now, this will be only a waste if you at least don’t let me get you some crackers and soup,” Ymir cracked a grin, earning an interested yet suspicious look from her… girlfriend? Crush? “Are you all about that cracker and soup life, blondie?”

Ymir swore she saw a smile overcome that grimace, but she didn’t watch long enough to see it as the bell caught her attention for a split second. 

From the door walked in a family, laughing, as the mother held a happy birthday balloon and the father ruffled his son’s hair—Ymir’s eyes widened and her mouth went slack. 

Immediately, Krista leaned from their booth to peek at what Ymir was gawking at but only saw a family she didn’t recognize. 

“Who’re they?” Krista’s curiosity won out of her dazed state but Ymir wouldn’t respond. She only stared and a strange look came over her. Her face was distorted in a mix of anger and fear. “…Ymir?”

“Let’s go.” Ymir blurted as she hastily yanked her wallet out and threw down a five. Krista didn’t get time to ask any more questions as Ymir shot up from her booth and took towards the door. The family was still enjoying themselves as the waiter attended them, ready to lead them to their seats until they caught site of Ymir. Krista watched as the mother gasped, letting go of the balloon, and the father’s face turning red as he shoved his son behind him. The boy visibly flinched and hid, glaring as Ymir shoved the doors open and fled. 

Krista gaped as she quickly got up, trying to rush after Ymir, but as she got to the doors she heard the father growl. 

“I will kill her next time I see her.” His voice didn’t betray him—Krista thoroughly believed that man’s words as she got outside, seeing Ymir hop the bushes that led to the sidewalk of the street. 

“Ymir!” Krista called out, sluggishly jogging the parking lot until she got around the bushes. “Ymir, what’s wrong?” 

Krista didn’t feel good herself but she had never seen Ymir’s mood flip like that. As she caught up, she grabbed Ymir’s arm but yelped when the taller girl snapped and shoved her away. Ymir stopped and glanced back at her and Krista saw all the unbridled rage in her eyes. She saw a different kind of person—a stranger—someone who wanted to hurt and burn everything. 

It wasn’t the Ymir she knew. 

Krista couldn’t pinpoint whether it was because of her exhaustion or Ymir’s misdirected anger but she began to cry. She couldn’t help it—she felt angry with herself that she couldn’t stop crying either. She was a big cry baby and stupid useless girl who couldn’t do anything better. 

Ymir didn’t even offer an apology as she stared at Krista. She couldn’t even say a word as that fire remained in her eyes as she watched the blonde sob to herself. 

Cars passed back and forth on the four lane street, whizzing past and making Krista’s hair stick to her wet cheeks. Ymir’s coat hem violently fluttered as she clicked her tongue. 

“Let’s go.” She gritted and went to the crossing, slamming her fist on the button, and Krista didn’t know whether or not she actually wanted to follow. She didn’t want to be around Ymir when she was angry—it reminded her of her grandmother and mother. Her body instinctively was ready for Ymir to beat her and to tell her she was better off dead. 

But, her feet moved for her. No matter what, she was always obedient. Always. Even if it endangered her… 

When they were cleared to walk, they went across towards the neighboring park. Ymir only stopped at the gravel path, waiting for Krista to catch up before continuing, side by side. Krista kept silently crying and sniffling as Ymir’s body was tense as a marching soldier. They walked and walked, retracing steps three times before Krista couldn’t go even further. Every step hurt her feet and she was beginning to stumble. It felt like she could pass out from tiredness any moment. 

“Ymir… I need to sit… please…” Krista finally begged and Ymir actually stopped for her. She turned around, facing her for the first time in forty minutes. 

“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Ymir asked, quiet, ashamed, and hurt. “You didn’t have to walk all that with me… we could’ve sat sooner…” 

Krista felt like that was a lie. She was too afraid to have asked her earlier. She didn’t want to be lashed out at again. It scared her so badly—like the inevitable slap that would come during chores. 

Ymir came over to her, guiding her to the bench and sitting beside her. 

“I’m sorry,” it came out too fast, too scared. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have… shoved you away like that…”

It didn’t feel like much of an apology. Ymir might’ve not known about her past but it wouldn’t be easily forgiven. It hit home too deep—it reminded her of old wounds that she’d rather not remember. Just like most of her life. 

“I’m so tired,” Krista cried, wiping her tears away. “I didn’t sleep all night and I just want to go to bed.” 

“Ah,” Ymir’s face kept growing sadder, “I should’ve—I shouldn’t have done that… I’m really sorry.”

It was always like Ymir to take things too far and apologize up and down like a scared child, trying to apologize before they were punished. 

“I just… want to go home…” Krista was already pulling out her phone but Ymir’s hand went to hers and she had to look up to see those pleading golden eyes. 

“Can I—can I explain myself?” Ymir begged. “Please? I’m sorry, Krista, I really am, please, let me tell you what happened—I don’t want you to think I’m an asshole.” 

A little late. 

Ymir and Krista both knew that but Ymir realized doing that to Krista didn’t sit well. She never would be able to be a dick towards her like how she was to past girls. And, by past girls, Ymir knew it was only Hitch. 

Ymir wasn’t as great and cool as she thought she was. She really was a loser and jerk for making the prettiest girl cry…

“I’m tired, Ymir,” Krista was literally nodding. “I just want to go home—I don’t feel good.”

“I—how about this, um, I—I can give you a piggy back ride to my car, and, along the way, I—uh—I can tell you what happened… okay? I will drive you home.” Ymir desperately suggested. “Please, don’t let this… don’t let this end like that, okay? You will understand—I promise. At least… you’ll begin to…”

Krista couldn’t tell Ymir she was impatient to get home so she could bawl. First, Reiner had to ruin everything, Armin had to be a dick, her father had to yell, her past had to haunt her, her fucked up mind wouldn’t let her sleep, and now Ymir had to hurt and scare her… 

Krista gave up. She exhaled, putting her phone away. 

“Fine,” she let out, “I don’t think I could walk more even if I wanted to… I don’t even know where we are.” 

“Alright, alright,” Ymir knew she was on thin ice. “That’s okay. I will take the shortcuts back, okay? I know you’re tired.”

Ymir was being kind and overly generous as she took off her own coat, wrapping Krista up in it to shield her from the nipping early winter. She helped the tiny blonde get on her back and jostled her until she got a good hold and began the trek back. 

At first, Krista thought Ymir was formulating some excuse, or she was going to break down in apologies again, but Ymir actually seemed… uncertain. 

“Okay, so,” Ymir kept trying to talk but only croaks would come out. She cursed multiple times under her breath and Krista wondered if she’d ever get to it.

“Look, there’s no way to put this nice, okay? There’s—there’s nothing in a book or way I could say this and make it seem normal, okay?” Ymir admitted. “So, please, just… try to be understanding…”

Krista was beginning to lull her head on Ymir’s shoulder, barely comprehending what Ymir had to say. 

“Mhm,” she mumbled, tired eyes closing. “Okay…okay….”

“That family… that kid, actually, uh… he’s… the… he’s the kid I stabbed… and I… I hate his guts.”


	52. Unsung Hero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Homophobic Slurs and Violence

“You want my tater tots?” Marco offered to Sasha who hastily accepted by grabbing a handful of the greasy fried nuggets. She didn’t waste time to dunk them in her ketchup and begin devouring them in practically one gulp. 

“Make sure to taste it!” Connie laughed as Sasha hummed in delight. Ymir scoffed, smirking at Sasha. 

“Next time, how about you share with us?” She suggested and Sasha swallowed with a sheepish smile. 

“Sorry,” everyone knew she didn’t mean it but they chuckled anyways. “I just really love tater tots.”

“Nah, we know,” Connie patted her shoulder as Marco laughed. 

“It’s why I offered them to you, Sasha.” His grin was wide as Sasha praised him up and down. 

They were sitting in the small yet loud cafeteria of Ymir’s old school. There were only seven long tables to host the middle school, but the whole middle school could easily be uncomfortably crammed onto three. However, the social status quo kept most apart from each other. 

Ymir glanced around and could easily distinguish who was what. At one table were a group of boisterous boys surrounding laughing girls. Most of the kids there had their basketball memorial tanks on or some variation of. The typical jocks of the school who had families that religiously attended every game and boasted about their child’s accomplishments and dreams of making it to state in their favored sport. 

Her eyes went to the next social group—the traditional kids. From beading to pow-wows to hunting, these kids stuck close to the roots of their community and had popular parents that nurtured similar traits in their children. They usually intermingled with the popular jock kids by inviting them to hunting or helping the girls bead their new boyfriends a hat. 

After those two popular groups, it was all straight downhill until you hit rock bottom—the nerds who were scattered here and there. They had little to no say in how they were treated. The jock families would chew and tear apart any kid who so much as inconvenienced their sporty kids. 

Now… Connie was somewhere in between it all. He liked sports and he loved hunting even more. While his parents were kind and not nearly as zealous as most, he found himself in a pleasant niche of popularity. Sasha was the same as was Ymir, but not Marco. When he was younger, Marco enjoyed baseball and soccer but their school didn’t have the funds or participating kids to have a baseball team, let alone a soccer team. He opted out of the rest and preferred to work on studying and playing video games. He wasn’t a stoner or bad kid and that landed him straight to the bottom. Old friends grew distant until it was only Sasha, Connie, and Ymir, who was his close cousin. She and him shared the same grandmother and Ymir’s mother was his father’s sister. 

On the reservation, though, bloodlines and families were close and mostly everyone and anyone could be a close or distant relative of some sort. It was just a matter of whether people preferred to acknowledge those ties.  
With Marco, some acted like they didn’t know. 

A splash of milk got dumped all over Marco’s back as one of the jock’s laughed. 

“Woops,” he smirked as the rest of his friends whooped and hollered, “didn’t mean to, bud.”

Ymir felt her teeth grit as Sasha and Connie glared at the guy. 

“I-It’s—“ Marco’s eyes were glued to his tray. He must’ve known that his friends were ready to jump the guy because he pulled himself together to turn around and smile. “I-It’s okay! Accidents happen.”

The jocks all laughed and the girls were snickering at Marco. 

“You’re right.” The jock agreed. “Thanks for understanding! You’re a good kid.”

The guy shoved Marco forward as his friends caught up with their trays. 

One friend in particular caught Ymir’s eyes as he leaned close to Marco. 

“Better watch yourself next time, faggot.” He sneered and kept walking with his squad. Ymir nearly jumped at the moment as Marco turned, putting his hand out to Ymir. 

“He ain’t worth it,” Marco assured her. “You’re already being watched from the last time you fought those guys.”

“Yeah, well,” Connie sniffed, pouting, “I don’t give a fuck. I’d love to see those guys suspended from football.”

“They think they’re hot shit,” Sasha suckled on her spoon with an angry expression.

“Yeah? Well, they keep that shit up and I will kick their asses. Again.” Ymir muttered, watching the group pass by them again as the same boy snickered, flipping them off and jumping up and down, taunting them all. 

Ymir shot up and slammed her tray down, causing the boy to laugh louder, running away. 

“Ugly bitch!” He whooped at Ymir and rounded the corner with his friends. Ymir growled, ready to take off after them as Connie and Sasha stood up, rolling their sleeves up, but a teacher whistled at the group. 

“Don’t think about it,” he pointed for them to sit down. Ymir kept standing, glaring at the man before forcibly sitting down. The other two reluctantly did the same. 

“Fucker isn’t even going to get after them,” Connie whispered, eyeing the teacher over his shoulder. 

“He sure as fuck isn’t,” Sasha leaned forward, “I heard Marcel’s mom is putting out so Marcel can play football. He has two Fs, one in math and the other in science.”

“You’re shitting me,” Ymir scowled. 

“Yeah, actually, I saw her car at the teacher’s place,” Sasha nodded. 

“What!?” Connie gaped and caused the whole table to hush him. “What the fuck!? I got one D in science and I couldn’t play until I got my grades back up!”

“Fucking bullshit,” Ymir gritted and they glanced towards Marco who had his handkerchief out, patting his back dry. 

“Ah, shit, dude,” Connie reached over, taking it away from Marco and helping him, “you alright?”

“We got so worked up,” Sasha agreed, getting up, “let me go get a towel. Is your gym shirt in the locker room?”

“Y-Yeah.” Marco was back to staring at his tray. 

“Same combination?” Sasha was already up and walking towards the gym. 

“Yeah.”

“I will go get it for you!” She took off jogging down the hall. 

“BRAUS! SLOW DOWN!” The teacher ordered. Sasha did as she was told till she rounded the corner and took off sprinting again. 

To most, Marco would look like he was daydreaming but to Ymir she knew he was deeply upset. 

“Hey,” Ymir tried to get his attention, “next time, tell us if they do this to you off school grounds. I will fuck them up.”

“I—no, it’s not your prob—“

“It fucking is! Why won’t you stand up for yourself?” Ymir grumbled. “You’re not weak—I’ve seen you haul shit around like it’s nothing. Half those boys are smaller than you.”

Marco cringed, gripping his tray as Connie kept dabbing away at his wet clothes. 

“I—don’t want to be like them, Ymir…”

Ymir knew Marco was a gentle guy. She also knew that he was gay, too, and that everyone else knew, too. He loved baby pink and he liked to draw, sing, and play puzzle games. He was great at beading and he was gentle to animals and often took in stray dogs. He was like that ever since they were small but people only began to notice when he stopped playing sports. 

“You aren’t. You never would be.” Ymir exhaled as Sasha finally came back with a towel and Marco’s gym shirt. 

“Here,” she threw the towel at Connie and placed the shirt next to Marco. “You can go change in the boy’s bathroom.”

Marco nodded. 

“I will do that over in the other building,” he thanked Connie and got up to dump his tray. The group followed and went back to retrieve their backpacks and Marco’s stuff. 

“You three go on ahead,” Ymir nodded at them, “I have to piss like crazy.”

“What kind of language is that?” Ymir hadn’t noticed the teacher behind her. “Girls shouldn’t talk like that, Langnar.” 

Ymir glanced back at the man towering over her. Another white teacher who thought he was saving Native Americans and doing God’s work. He was the newest replacement for the math department and with an ego that no amount of algebra could add up to. 

“What language?” Ymir frowned. “What did I say?”

“You know what you said, Langnar. I’m watching you.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “You better stay out of trouble.”

“Whatever,” Ymir sighed, walking away, and muttering, “and you better stay out of Marcel’s mom.”

Sadly, it was heard. 

“WHAT WAS THAT!? DO I NEED TO SEND YOU TO DETENTION?” The man was practically frothing in anger. “I AM GETTING THE PRINCIPAL NOW TO SUSPEND YOU FOR INNAPPROPRIATE BEHAVIOR!”

Ymir quickly darted away, booking it towards the other building as the man threw a fit, rushing to the the principal’s office. 

Ymir cursed under her breath as she bolted out the doors. Now she was really going to get a fucking earful.

She ran up the sidewalk towards the parking lot, intending to rush to the middle school building, but she heard scuffling. 

Without warning, Ymir saw Sasha get thrown against a truck as a fist hit her square in the jaw. 

“FUCKER!” She heard Connie roar. Immediately, Ymir ran towards the group of rigs as Connie was hoisted in the air and thrown into the back of a truck with a yelp. 

“Stay out of it,” Marcel’s voice was heard, “I swear, you two fucking protecting this gay boy as if you were two faggots, too. Are you, huh? Huh, fat bitch? Do you suck on your cousin Ymir’s tits after school while she finger fucks you? Fucking sick! I bet Connie lets Marco suck him off every day!”

Ymir felt her blood broil as she ran to Marcel’s car and finding Marco pinned against it. Marcel and a smaller group of the jocks were surrounding him, laughing as they had Marco’s wallet. 

“Y’know,” Marcel muttered, “I fucking hate your face, faggot. Every time I see you in the lockerroom, oogling all of us, and going into the showers to jack off—it fucking makes me sick!” 

“HEY!” Ymir roared, catching the attention of the group. “You want a real fight, bitch?”

Ymir lifted her boot and kicked in Marcel’s headlight and dug her heel in it, grounding up the plastic and glass. 

“You fucking bitch!” Marcel punched Marco in the nose as blood spurted. “What, can’t let gay boy here fight his own fights? You’re just like your pussy friends.”

“Why is a high school beating on a middle schooler?” Sasha was already up, spitting out blood. “Kind of sad to see.”

“Yeah,” Connie was up in the back of the truck, brushing himself off and rubbing a swelling bruise on his cheek, “how about you fight us instead, huh?”

“You guys are pathetic!” One of the boys laughed. “Sound like some shitty cartoon!” 

“Fuck you,” Sasha jumped the boy, grabbing him by the hair and yanking him down to her height. He hissed and then choked as Sasha’s fist punched him in the throat. 

“Fucking get them!” Marcel roared as two of the boys went to Connie. 

“FUCKERS!” Connie drop kicked one as the other wrestled Connie to the ground. It only left one other boy and Marcel, but Marcel stayed back, snickering, watching as Connie was getting ganged up on. 

“Get over here, bitch,” the boy rushed Ymir, fist cocked back. Ymir waited for him reach her as he swung with all his might. It didn’t take much to dodge and reward the cocky fuck a knee to the stomach. When he doubled forward, gasping as the wind was knocked out of him, Ymir shoved her bony elbow right against his ear, and heard the boy yell in pain. 

When Ymir looked up towards Marcel, she saw the boy facing away, kicking—  
“MARCO!” Ymir screeched, seeing Marcel kicking at Marco’s face. “GET OFF OF HIM, YOU PSYCHO!” 

Only gargled sounds came from Marco and the bloodcurdling sound of teeth crunching and succumb to Marcel’s shoes. 

“Dude!” A boy from Marcel’s group stopped beating on Connie. “WHAT THE FUCK, MARCEL!? STOP!”

Everyone stopped fighting as Marcel laughed, kicking in Marco’s face. 

“STOP!” Sasha was nearly crying as she ran over to Marcel, ready to punch him, but he beat her to it. She was down again but she refused to give up. 

“MARCEL!” The boy under Connie yelled. “STOP!”

Connie tried getting up but the boy on top of him wasn’t budging.

“GET OFF! GET OFF!” 

It was like in slow motion as Ymir rounded the car, heading straight for Marcel. Everything in her brain was shutting down as all she could see was the other boy. Her blood pumped and the only sound was the sound of Marcel’s kicks, Marco’s gagling, and her heartbeat. 

She didn’t feel her own hand reaching into her pocket, pulling out her switch blade. She didn’t see the other boys back up when she flipped it open. 

“Stop it,” she begged, shaking violently, “STOP IT!” 

Marcel didn’t. 

Marco screamed in pain as the last kick hit his face, splattering blood everywhere as he coughed up teeth and gums. 

“Faggot! FAGGOT!” 

Ymir didn’t hesitate when she reached the guy and buried her blade deep into his lower back. 

His scream deafened it all as the teacher and principal ran towards the bloody fight, bewildered and now screeching as other students raced over to find the horror. 

All they saw was Marcel crying, holding his lower back where a knife was, and Ymir’s bloodied hands. Nobody noticed Marco until Sasha was over there, screaming at the teacher to help, to call the ambulance. 

Ymir stared at her hands. 

Faggot. 

Why would they say that? 

Why would they do that?

Ymir was shoved against the truck by the furious teacher as he screamed into her ear, calling her crazy. Marcel began to freak out, blubbering how Ymir and her group attacked him—his friends numbly agreed, too afraid to have their names marred by Marcel’s actions. 

Who were they to believe?

The town’s beloved jocks, who, if brought to the police, would cause the major families to riot and threaten lawsuits, or the school’s less loved students, whose parents would feel the wrath of the families and school if they said a peep? 

The idealization of justice was a false concept as Marco was brought to the emergency room, Sasha and Connie were suspended, and Ymir was kicked out of the school and sentenced to Juvenile. Marcel and his group were treated like pitiful victims of ‘that fucking psycho Ymir who should be put in a crazy hospital’. 

It was never about right and wrong, Ymir realized when she had to be in her cot. The world didn’t run on justice and being good. 

It ran on who you knew and what dirt you had on people. 

People didn’t care if it didn’t inconvenience them. People would gladly to protect their awful children from their horrendous acts to save face. 

This world was cruel and unforgiving. 

As she faced her sentence, receiving death threats over the phone and in the mail by Marcel’s family, she felt deep regret grow in her stomach every day. 

A regret that she didn’t kill the boy. 

Maybe then the world would’ve finally saw justice that day.

.  
**.  
** .  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  


“Do you understand me now? Do you see why I did it?” Ymir asked, standing in front of her car as a gust of cold winter wind chilled her cold bones.

“Yes.” 

Ymir didn’t motion to let me go. She was frozen in her place. 

“…do you think I’m a bad person?”

“No.” 

I felt her bitterly chuckle. 

“Then, let me rephrase that,” she quietly spoke,” what if I told you… I wished I killed him...”

She was tense and shivering against the biting reality that she could never take back what she told me. 

“Do you still think I’m a nice person, Krista?”

She was crying. 

“Do you?”

I tightened my grip around her neck, holding her close, and I didn’t stop myself from kissing the back of her head. 

“No.”

I found the Ymir I knew—the one I loved—buried underneath her anger and grief. Beneath the layers of walls and bitterness, there was the little girl who believed in doing the right thing and protecting her friends was there, crying, wondering why she was punished for the evilness of another.

Why did nobody say a thing even if everyone knew Marcel was the dangerous one? 

When everyone knew that Marco was innocent and didn’t deserve to lose ten of his teeth and had to get surgery done to his face? 

Ymir sobbed, letting me on the ground, but I only put my feet on the ground and hugged her from behind, holding onto her tightly. 

This was the Ymir I loved.

The hero that I dreamt about every night as a kid, hoping we’d find each other and she’d save me from it all. 

“I’d never think you were awful, though. Ever.” I buried my face into the dip of her back. 

I kissed her again, hoping my love reached to those scars deep within her heart. 

“I promise."


	53. Nostalgia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flickers by Son Lux

“Historia, dear, sweetness,” Father’s voice was relieved, but his words were taut like a bowstring, ready to deliver the shot I knew was coming. “Where’ve you been? You said you’d be home an hour ago.”

I had left early to go visit Ymir and hang out with her today. Now that the sun was gone and the early winter was beginning to set in, I could see why Father was surprised I didn’t hastily return. It wasn’t like me to be late, I knew, but… 

“We have things to discuss. Important matters, dear,” he hit the mark as the tension grew with his hushed voice. “Reiner has words to speak to both of us. He asked for me to call upon him when you returned. He was urgent about it.”

I could only imagine what Reiner had to say after that fiasco. Not that I wanted to. 

“Dad,” I could hear the tiredness in my voice. All day, I spent my time with Ymir, sitting in her car, listening to music, driving from mall to mall, and dozing off here and there as we cruised. I hadn’t slept a wink last night and I doubted I would again if I went home. It felt like a poisonous, thorned barrier I’d have to struggle and rip my skin against before I was given rest. 

“I don’t really want to talk to Reiner tonight…” I hadn’t told Ymir about it. I knew if I did she’d hunt Reiner down and kill him, or tell Hitch and let the rumors go like wildfire. 

“But, dear, it’s very important,” Father exhaled, tired, and worried, “we must find a solution and put it behind us. I’ve spoken to Armin and he wants to have a private conversation with you, too.” 

Father paused, inhaling, and then sighing as if he was withholding something. 

“I don’t know what’s going on his head these days,” he admitted, quietly. Hurt. “What made him think it was okay to do that to you…”

Ymir tried her best to not listen but her eyes glanced at mine, wondering what was going on. Her interest was piqued and I had no reason to tell her to step outside for me. 

“I know during the summer that you two were hitting rough patches.” Father awkwardly continued, gruffing and coughing and pugging on the cigar I knew he had. “Pixis told me… and I’m sorry that Armin has been so harsh on you… I just… I didn’t think he’d be like that to you. I don’t know what’s wrong with him—I don’t know what’s going on anymore.”

I didn’t know what to say. Despite Armin’s whispers of how terrible Father could be, I heard concern. I heard pain. It was like when I asked Papa about his war photos and asked about Christopher, his best friend, who died in the war. It was something cold yet burning, something that could not be fixed. Lost. Broken. 

“I went off on a tangent,” Father muttered and I could imagine him rubbing the bridge of his nose with his big, pudgy fingers.

Ymir’s golden eyes were bright. She knew something had happened but not how bad. She was watching me with intensity, trying to decipher what had went wrong, but, most of all, she was looking at me with remorse. That she chose today of all days to be an asshole. Perhaps even hurt that I hadn’t the heart to tell her what went wrong. 

“Maybe,” I didn’t know how to respond to my Father. It was the first time he ever broke his jolly and reserved nature. Armin had told me before that Father wasn’t always like that. Was this who he was underneath it all? 

Did Father have a mask like mine? 

Before I knew it, Ymir had snatched the phone from my hand. I gawked as she put it up to her ear, too startled to do anything. 

“Hey, this is Ymir,” she lazily spoke.

“O-oh? Hello, Ymir,” I could hear Father’s surprise. “Did Historia have to step out?”

“Ah, yeah,” Ymir rolled with it, “she was going to ask if she could stay with me for tonight.”

“Ah, I see, I’m uncertain if she should,” Father continued with a firm voice, “our butler told me she was looking awfully unwell and should come home to rest.”

“Oh, she seems to be feeling a little better, sir, but, really, she can chill with me for tonight. My dad is a doctor and he will help her if need be.” Ymir smoothed it over without a hiccup. I swore that she could charm the stars from the sky. 

“Really? If Historia is certain, she has my approval…”

“Ah, speaking of her, here you go,” Ymir chimed, handing me back my phone and winking. 

“H-hey, dad,” I felt so nervous and embarrassed at the same time. “So, uh, it’s okay?”

“Of course, dear,” he paused, “unless you don’t want to?”

“I do, I do,” I blurted. The idea of coming home and getting back into the problems was not appealing, but… 

I’d be with Ymir. Alone. For a whole night. Same bed… 

“Okay, dear, well, you can call me if you change your mind. I love you, Historia. I hope you have a good night.” He gave up on trying to convince me to come home. 

“I love you, too, dad.” I smiled to myself. “I will see you tomorrow.”

“Of course, darling. Goodnight.”

“Night.” 

The call was ended and I could only stare at Ymir’s mysterious eyes. They wouldn’t tell me what had caused her to do all of this. 

“Don’t worry about it,” she clicked her seatbelt back on, adjusting herself as she turned the key in the ignition. “We can share a bed.”

It was like a jolt of adrenaline coursing through my body as my ears burned. I had never shared a bed before. Mother, Grandmother, and Papa never let me in their bed and I had never expected them to. If I woke up to nightmares or heavy storms, I was expected to go back to sleep without a peep. 

But there were no storms or terrors as an excuse. 

I nervously played with the hem of my shirt, sneaking glances at Ymir as the streetlights danced against her freckled skin, her soft lips, and warm eyes. She was beautiful in every way. 

With Ymir, maybe I didn’t need an excuse to be close to her. It was perfectly fine if we wished to sleep together. Simply because. Even if that was true, my heart wouldn’t stop trying to lodge itself in my throat, but that wasn’t the worst of it. 

My mind kept racing—what was going to happen? 

Maybe I should’ve been excited but I was scared. Not that Ymir would do anything against my will, but that I’d disappoint her. That she’d get angry that I wouldn’t say yes to more if it came.

**-x-x-x-**

Ymir pulled into the circular driveway and parked close to the gate of her home. It was a large and beautiful house built on a slope that exuded a homely presence. The garden was full of clovers and overgrown, frosty ivy that nearly encroached on the stone pathway to the door. Their property was hidden by large, overgrown trees that blocked most outsiders from viewing in.

As I stepped out, rubbing my eyes, and looking up, I could barely see the stars through their barren boughs. From the corner of my eye, the light from a lone, black iron streetlamp caught my attention. It stood near their driveway, but even its light couldn’t penetrate the darkness of their hidden glen. 

I could only imagine what it would look like in summer or spring. The thought of the warmer seasons left me to shiver in the early winter’s cold. Only warmth was in Ymir’s hands taking mine and the yellow glow from the windows of her house. 

“Let’s go,” she guided me close to her body. “Watch out for that step. It’s breaking.” 

I nearly tripped but she caught me by the hand. She even chuckled. 

“Still clumsy, huh?” She teased. “Don’t drop your hot dog.” 

I smiled even though she couldn’t see it. 

“You’re such a jerk,” I replied but I didn’t take my hand away from her. When we got to the door, she fished out keys and unlocked the locks and let me inside. It was very quiet except for the faint sound of music from the kitchen. I could hear a man singing—her father? 

“I’m home.” Ymir called out. 

“Oh! Good! I was getting worried!” The man replied. His voice was transparent as can be with his relief and happiness. I could almost feel the warmth of it. “Bertolt left just a bit ago to visit Reiner! Apparently something is wrong with, R-Dog. I hope he’s okay!” 

The silly pet names, the worry—

“I brought a friend over. I hope it’s okay if she can stay?” Ymir casually added. 

Pots and pans crashed and thundered as the man cried out, scrambling, and lidding the loud, sizzling pot. 

“A f-friend!?” I saw his tall shadow before I saw his lanky frame appear. He had sharp features but his hazel eyes were warm and full of love and excitement. He had a wide grin as he saw me. 

“Hello there! My name is Baldur! I’m Ymir’s—ah, I’m her—“ 

“He’s my dad,” Ymir said and I saw Baldur flinch. His eyes were wide for only a moment before nodding. 

“Yeah! I’m her father, yep,” he went over, giving Ymir a huge bear-hug. I almost even heard her arms and back pop and crack as she grunted and heaved in labored breaths. 

“Baldur,” she grumbled and he let her go with a grin, ruffling her hair. 

“Now,” he gave me his undivided attention, “who is she? Is she a friend, or a _friend_?” 

I was never addressed that way before. It made me freeze in place and I wondered if I did something for him to infer that. Was it obvious that I liked Ymir? I didn’t do anything—

“Her name is Historia Reiss. I knew her when I was a kid.” Ymir got his attention back. “She’s a good friend.” 

“Reiss?” Baldur’s eyes went wide. “Like, Rod Reiss? Are you related to him?”

Ymir’s hand was on my back, encouraging me to talk. I didn’t realize how stiff I was. 

“A-actually, he’s my father.” My voice was so quiet compared to his and Ymir’s. 

“Oh, wow! He owns the hospital I work at!” Baldur crossed his arms, whistling. “What a small world!” 

I wasn’t sure what else to say. 

“She’s super tired, Baldur. We’re going to go to bed, okay? Long day.” Ymir shrugged her shoulders, stretching her arms to emphasize. 

“Okay. You two rest up. I will make breakfast tomorrow!” He beamed as he went back to the kitchen. “You two sure you don’t want some dinner?”

I wasn’t very hungry but Ymir seemed to hesitate as she went to the stairs. She looked over her shoulder and then at me. 

“You hungry, Krista?”

“Wait, Krista?” Baldur was confused. 

“Another name she goes by,” Ymir shrugged and Baldur seemed to understand. At least enough to not question further. 

“Um,” I chewed the inside of my cheek, “i-it’s up to you, Ymir. I don’t mind.” 

Ymir blew a raspberry with her lips. 

“You’re no help,” she stuck her tongue out to me, “eh, I think we will be fine. If not, we can get leftovers.”

“Alright,” Baldur nodded and walked over to me. I didn’t expect him to pick me up in a hug. 

“It’s was good to meet you! Don’t be a stranger!” He put me down and I felt like my soul nearly escaped my body from his tight grasp. 

“Y-You, too!” I wheezed. 

“C’mon, Krista,” Ymir was already on top of the stairs, waiting for me to follow. “Let’s go to bed.”

“Coming!”

**.  
** .  
.  


“There’s Sasha’s star,” I could barely make out Ymir pointing at the glow-in-the-dark stars on her ceiling. “She signed it with one of those stupid S’s everyone was into.”

It was a pretty cool S, though. 

“And, there’s Marco’s,” she pointed at another.

“Did you bring these from home?” I asked. My face was buried in her pillow. It smelled just like her. I could barely get enough. 

“Mm?” She must’ve not understood my muffled words. 

“Were these from home?” 

“Oh, yeah, they were,” she lowered her arm and tucked it under her head. I only knew she did that when I felt her bony elbow near my face. 

Ymir might’ve not liked to admit it but she was a softie underneath. She was sentimental to have kept the stars for so long. 

“They’re nice.” I quietly commented. “I always wanted some for my room when I was younger.” 

“Yeah?” Ymir turned onto her side, facing me. “When you stayed with your grandparent’s?” 

I felt my mouth go a little dry as the conversation took a sudden turn. 

“Yes.” 

Not only was Ymir closer to me now but she was also prying at a subject I tried to avoid. It wasn’t a secret to Ymir that something had happened for to go from Krista Lenz to Historia Reiss. 

“It’s okay,” Ymir’s hand reached out, blindly exploring my shoulder, groping it curiously before finding her way to my hair. Gently, she ran her hand through it. “You don’t have to tell me… I know what it’s like to be scared to share things...”

I expected her to be pushy. Maybe because everyone was like that with me… 

“I was taken away and Father took me in.” It slipped past my lips in a whisper. “He gave me everything. All he asked was that I changed my name.” 

Ymir’s hand didn’t stop but she did laugh under her breath. 

“Aren’t we similar?” She followed. 

“Huh?”

“We’re similar.” Ymir began. “When I was sent to juvi, my mom got in contact with Baldur. She was hoping that he’d pay bail. In the end, I did my sentence and my mom didn’t know what to do with me, so, she convinced him to take me in. To help me because she couldn’t.”

It was similar. 

“He had the money and opportunities.” Ymir’s words grew heavier and harsher like she was sarcastically seething. It was like she blamed her mom or wasn’t happy.

“Aren’t you happy, though?” I asked. “He gave you so much…and, aren’t you thankful?” 

It confused me. 

“Your mom did what she thought was best,” I wish my mom had. 

Ymir stopped playing with my hair. 

“Well,” she exhaled, “tell me this, then, and I’ll answer your question.”

I felt like I was walking into a trap. The way she worded it and the finality of it, I knew she had something heavier to say. 

“What is it?” I uttered and Ymir’s hands drew me closer, pulling me flush against her body. I was all too aware of her boobs against mine. The way her leg intertwined with mine and her knee was all too high up my thigh. 

“Aren’t you happy?” She countered and I couldn’t answer quick enough. “He gave you money, a new family, better education, attention, and a whole new chance. Aren’t you happy, Krista?” 

“Y-yes, I’m happy.” I sharply inhaled when she put her forehead against mine. Her arms covetously wrapped around my waist and her breath was going down my neck. 

“Then, why is it whenever I see you with everyone, you look like your lost,” Ymir persisted. “You always smile when I’m around. You like to ride horses and run off by yourself. You like old people music and dancing. You point out hotrods when they go up and down Division.” 

I could practically taste the mint of her toothpaste on her breath. I was growing hot and my bones ached. I was too focused on my hips and ensuring they didn’t touch her leg. 

“Krista?” She paused. “Krista…”

She licked her lips and I swore I almost felt her tongue touch my cheek. 

“Is it that you miss your old life and Papa?” Her words hurt. 

Hurt so good. Like pulling off a stubborn Band-Aid over a healed wound. I felt denial nearly pour out of my mouth as I almost choked on the rebuttal. 

But I couldn’t lie to her. 

I couldn’t deny her anymore. 

I pressed my lips to hers and heard a surprised sound escape from her lips to mine. Her lips were soft and hot as I gave her several quick and desperate kisses on her bottom lip. She couldn’t keep up with me until I paused enough to kiss her upper lip. “

Her tender hands shot to my face and caressed and held me. From my chest, heat and love bloomed like a fountain of fireworks. It burned my skin and what hatred I had for my face being touched melted off. I had never felt like this. I had never once thought I’d feel at home or safe. 

I was so certain everything was right. Until I felt something slick and wet against my lips. Against my will, images flew across my mind and I jerked away, stunned. 

“Ah!” Her hands stilled on my cheeks. “Was that not okay?” 

It tasted like mint and whip cream. Like the can she sprayed into her mouth earlier. It felt weird. Misplaced. 

“I’m sorry,” Ymir pulled her hands away. “I didn’t mean to move so fast.”

I couldn’t stop the thoughts coming through my head. It was just like last night. It made me sick. 

“I-I—“I was so tired and exhausted and pissed—so fucking pissed!—when I felt the tears come. It was like I couldn’t stop today. I was so weak and pathetic. 

“I miss Papa! I miss home! I—I don’t think—think, think, think I’mmmh ha—hua—huappy!” 

Ymir was still as I cried into her. Her arms were heavy and slow but she took me into her embrace. 

“It’s okay,” she said, rubbing my back. “It’s okay…”

She kissed the crown of my head. 

“I miss home, too. Neglectful moms and all.”


	54. Final Straw

Every now and then, I would stretch my fingers, battling to control them, but they were almost frozen in place. 

My eyes were glued on Krista’s beautiful face. Her eyelashes were thick and long, resting against her rosy cheeks. The morning sunlight beaming from a crack in my blinds had woken me up to the sight of her golden hair glowing in its light. Just like an angel. 

I fought my hand to move closer again but I was frozen. I could feel the lumps of ice in my throat, threatening to freeze it shut. It felt like a bad thing but maybe it was good—it kept my heart from leaping through. 

I had no intentions of waking her. After all, she was pressed so close to my side. I don’t think she realized it or else she would’ve retreated to the edge of the bed. It was rare to have her like this—to have her shamelessly clinging to me. Half the time I would be convinced she was just toying with me. A quarter of the time I’d think she was ashamed of me, but, in these rare moments, I was reminded that she was fragile. Scared. Doubting herself before she even took a single step. 

If I was smart, I’d listen to what my grandma had to say about it—love is patient, love is kind. I would be just that for her. And, for the most part, I was. Yeah. Maybe not all the time, though. Some days I felt frustrated and would’ve liked no better than to push her to make a decision. To tell her that her hesitation was causing things to get worse every day.

Sometimes I was harsh with her. I wanted to be impatient and remind her I couldn’t sit around until she found the perfect time to tell her ape of a boyfriend to fuck off. I had to remind her that I was doing this out of kindness—all this waiting and being mindful. I wasn’t obligated to. 

Centimeter by centimeter, my hand drew closer to her face until I could feel her breath on my fingertips. 

I never felt my heart pound so loudly in my ears. My mouth felt dry as I tried to swallow. 

I didn’t want her to wake up and see me reaching out. At this point, I wouldn’t be able to play it off if she woke up. 

Would it be like any other day where she’d shy away from me? 

Would she let me continue but not look me in the eyes?

Or…

My lips almost trembled. 

Would she lean into my hand? 

Would she accept my love? 

My hand wasn’t scared now that it was there. It easily glided my fingers across her cheek, caressing it as gently as I could. 

My body and mind was bent on believing I had a chance. I didn’t want to think she was toying with me, or her indecisiveness would push us to a place of no return. I thoroughly begged and clung to the notion that she was accepting my love. 

I couldn’t imagine if she couldn’t. 

I didn’t want to. 

“I love you, Krista.”

**-x-x-x-**

“Reiner,” Bertolt cut through the terrible silence. His voice was almost deafening compared to the silent and bitter morning. The only comfort Reiner had was warm air from the car heater. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re ga—“

“I’m not gay!” Reiner snapped, glaring at his lap. “I don’t know what happened!” 

“Did you tell Histo—“

“WHAT THE FUCK? NO!” Reiner roared. Bertolt would be surprised if his father didn’t hear, or, worse, Ymir would eavesdrop. 

Bertolt didn’t care if Reiner looked like he was ready to beat him. Something in his heart was twisting. It was making him feel isolated. He was despairingly aware of the drifting distance between him and his childhood friend. Ever since eighth grade summer, Reiner had visited him less and less. He hit puberty and girls found him irresistible. Other guys respected him and finally began to notice his positive qualities. Bertolt was happy at first, but, then his mother left. 

His father refused to take responsibility. He said empty apologies that only furthered the stake in Bertolt’s heart. 

Now, as he sat in the passenger, staring at Reiner’s eyes, he had to relive being abandoned. He saw the warning signs—Reiner spending less time with him, choosing sports and his teammates over their hangouts, ditching him for girls, and, now, not even telling him secrets. 

Bertolt had always been honest with Reiner, but Reiner wasn’t with him. 

Their trust was gone.

“Why Armin?” It came out with a sob. “W-Why him?” 

Bertolt didn’t want to imagine Reiner not trusting him. If he felt safe… close… Reiner would’ve came to him, his supposed best friend, and confide in it. 

Reiner liked Armin better than him. 

It was just salt in the wound. 

Reiner stared at Bertolt. 

“What are you going on about?” His eyebrows knitted together. “Nothing happened. It wasn’t like that.” 

Bertolt couldn’t believe Reiner was blatantly lying in front of him. He was like a stranger to him. 

“You just said you and Armin fooled around—!!”

“I have a girlfriend, Bert! The hell!” 

“I can’t believe you,” Bertolt couldn’t place his finger on it. It clicked. His eyes dried and his heart ceased from hurting. It was like he went numb. “Everyone is right about you.”

“What?!” This time Reiner was close to beating Bertolt. His knuckles were white against the steering wheel and his hand was tightly shut in a fist. 

Bertolt almost laughed. 

After all these years of… liking Reiner… of loving him… Reiner punching him would be the closest thing to the physical contact he wanted. 

To fill Reiner full of passion to even lay a finger on him, violent or not. 

“You’re a stupid motherfucker.” Bertolt smiled. 

He waited. 

Reiner’s eyes were wide. 

Bertolt thought he would be punched. Reiner shot his fist up, cocking it, as a violent glint came in his eyes. 

Bertolt was surprised that he even thought Reiner would hurt him. Like always, the blonde left him disappointed and yearning. 

Reiner just tangled his fingers in his own hair, shaking. Crying again. 

“You aren’t really stupid, though.” Bertolt spoke again and unbuckling his seatbelt. “I know you know better.”

Reiner twisted his knuckles into his own head, sobbing, and realizing he couldn’t get out of the consequences of his actions. 

“You knew I liked you.” Bertolt opened the car door, letting the hot air escaped and being chased by the biting cold. “Yet you still wanted to pretend you didn’t. You’d rather fuck someone else, and I’m trying to see why—is it because you don’t want to pick up the pieces, or you really just don’t care?” 

“Bertolt!” Reiner slammed his fists on his lap. His jerked his head to face Bertolt before he could remove himself from Reiner’s life. “What are you doing!? Where the fuck did that come from?”

Suddenly, Bertolt looked tired. The bags under his hazel eyes seemed to make deep folds under his eyes. His skin was slick and sweaty like his shaking, moist hands. Reiner hadn’t noticed how thin his friend was getting. He looked like the embodiment of exhaustion and anxiety. 

“I don’t care anymore. Nothing goes right.” Bertolt got out and slammed the car door. Reiner was left speechless and only snapped to when Bertolt was at the door, unlocking it. 

“Bertolt! Wait! WAIT A MINUTE!” He struggled to get out of his car, forgetting the seatbelt and nearly choking himself out. “BERTOLT!” 

The boy didn’t respond as he went inside and locked the door.

Bertolt didn’t notice the note his father left about an emergency at the hospital and that he was sorry he couldn’t make breakfast. He didn’t notice Historia’s coat on the rack as he walked past it all and went upstairs to his bedroom. 

Nothing really mattered.

**.  
.  
.**

“Bertolt! Bertolt!” Reiner pounded on the door. “I know you can hear me! You jackass!”

Reiner would go through periods of knocking and then texting and calling Bertolt’s phone. 

“You asshole! Knock it off! Get out here and let me fucking talk to you!” Reiner was violently shivering, but his pride was beginning to melt as his anger came to a simmer. The realization that Bertolt might never want to be friends again stung deep. 

“Please!” He knocked desperately. “Bertolt!”

In the end, Reiner couldn’t outlast the cold as he bitterly gave up and ran to his car, ready to leave, but then the door wouldn’t open. From inside he could see his keys jangling. Locked inside. 

“Goddammit!” Reiner roared and echoed in the early morning, startling some chickadees out of a nearby bush.

“You called?” 

Reiner jolted as he snapped his attention to the open door where Ymir stood, hair disheveled, and looking quite pissed despite the playful jab. Her glare lessened a little. 

“Did you want inside?” Ymir asked, leaning against the door frame and shivering, holding her arms and rubbing them. “Or, what?” 

When he didn’t answer right away, he wondered why Ymir didn’t just slam the door and tell him to fuck off. He took even longer before exhaling and finally taking a step towards the stone steps. 

“It took you long enough,” he grumbled and casually passed her with a bump in the shoulders. 

When Reiner went to the living room to crash on the couch, Ymir was still at the open door, staring out of it. 

Ymir was stuck on how to approach the situation ahead of her. It was complicated. Too shitty to mull over it with what time she did have. 

She shook her head and closed the door. 

At least, Ymir concluded, she wouldn’t ask why Reiner was crying. 

Even if she was worried about him.

**-x-x-x-**

I couldn’t sleep even if I tried.

I sat up on the couch and stared at the TV. Right now, Bertolt would’ve been down here watching that one show he loved. I didn’t know why he cared for cooking shows but it was his thing. 

How many hours did I waste watching those with Bertolt?

I couldn’t recall but my hand instinctively held up four fingers. One for the time they tried to cook when they were eight and threw water on a grease fire, two for the forgotten tortillas when they were playing games, three for the time they fell asleep and burnt their ramen, and four when Bertolt was sick and I tried to cook for him. 

We caused a lot of fires. 

I found myself smiling and I almost called out for him—to ask if he remembered the four memories, but I was reminded by reality that he was leaving me. 

I don’t know why—he was so dumb sometimes but—

I don’t know why I ignored his feelings. I wasn’t grossed out by them. I didn’t think less of him, but the idea of acknowledging—of outright telling him that it was fine—it made my stomach sick. I didn’t know why. 

I didn’t know anything because I chose to. I didn’t want to think of Bertolt like that. It scared me. It made me feel sick to think that these past years—the unknown gazes, the uncertainty of what Bertolt’s intentions were.

My thoughts raced and I startled myself with this fearful question—did he masturbate to me? 

I masturbated to Historia’s pictures and the thought of us going all the way, how she’d sound, how she’d feel… did Bertolt think of that?

It made me feel vulnerable. 

I hated it. 

I couldn’t place the feeling—I couldn’t tell whether I was scared of him or repulsed at his love. It was a feeling like no other. 

All I knew was that I didn’t want to know it—I didn’t want to believe or see it. So I just ignored it and it worked. Bertolt knew better…

He should’ve known better… 

“Fuck,” I got up, walking towards the kitchen to the sound of cereal being poured. I knew it wasn’t Bertolt because he wouldn’t be so confrontational. He would still be hiding in his room—I glanced up the stairs as I crossed the hall—and he still was in his room. 

Knowingly, I saw Ymir sitting on the counter, wearing ratty pajamas and sleepily chomping away at the coco puffs.   
“Did you need a blanket?” Ymir asked. “You know where they are. In the hall? Laundry was done last night.” 

“No.” I went to the wall near the archway to the kitchen. I leaned against the wall, observing Ymir. 

How casual she seemed—how nonchalant of the world with her disheveled hair and lack of respect of the kitchen counters. 

Unlike Bertolt, she was relaxed in any setting. She made herself at home before anyone could offer their generosity. She just took it and used it like she was entitled to it. 

I hated how her eyes bore into me without hesitancy. She was unwavering in her creepy attention. The way she analyzed everything behind her lazy façade. 

She was manipulative. She used others for her own gain. Their emotions were just pawns to make her happy. She was so fucking selfish to not consider others—her whims had no consequences. She always escaped somehow unscathed. 

“Are you hungry?” Ymir drawled, frowning. “You keep staring at me like some starving dog.”

I couldn’t tell whether or not she was fucking with me. She was good at stowing away any cues. A psycho that loved to play with people’s emotions. 

I saw how she argued with Historia and kept her under her thumb. How she made it out to be Historia’s fault for everything. She played Historia like a fiddle and was now getting her to believe she could love her—a shitty girl who was lower than dirt but acted like she was queen. What a fucking joke. 

“I want you to stay away from Historia. For good.” It came out steadier than I expected. 

I was tired of her playing those little games. How people whispered that I was oblivious to how ‘close’ Ymir and Historia were, or how I was too weak to confront Historia about it. 

No. Everyone was wrong. 

Everyone is wrong. 

I’m the only one who sees Ymir’s game. I’m the only one who can get Historia away from her fucked up mind games. Historia would never go for her after all this. She’d be stupid to. Ymir had nothing to offer. She was a bitchy negative person with no redeeming qualities. 

“Why’s that?” Ymir put her bowl down, crossing her arms. 

I heard the upstairs bathroom door open and someone wander to another room and shut it. 

I watched Ymir’s face. 

Nothing. 

She was a stoic emotionless wall. 

“Or else I will fucking beat you.” I told her. “For Historia’s sake, you’ll leave her alone. I don’t want her to see me hurting you.”

Ymir simply blinked. 

“Why this all of a sudden?” Ymir asked. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing did,” I spat back, “but I’m done with being the good guy. You fucking back off.”

“You said that kind of quickly, didn’t you?” Suddenly a cocky smile came across Ymir’s lips. “Maybe too quickly. Did I hit a nerve?”

“Shut the fuck up!” 

“Oh. I will. I’m good at that.” The proud smile grew as she hopped off the counter, pushing her bowl and spoon in the sink for someone else to do. She sauntered past me like a pleased cat. 

The fucking bitch. 

“However,” she stopped and I didn’t spare her a glance as she stood out of view. “Do you think Rod will be quiet?” 

I felt my stomach drop and my eyes went wide. 

How did she fucking know?

Did Bertolt tell her?

WHO THE FUCK TOLD HER?! 

“Ymir!” Historia’s voice echoed the house and I felt my heart plummet. “The showers open now!”

The world was playing a joke on me. 

“Thanks!” Ymir happily chimed. “I’ll be up soon.”

I had no response. 

What could I say to a world that was bent on fucking me over? 

If my father learned—

My little brother…

“You should already know this, but she’s done with you.” Ymir whispered. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. You know this. You knew this from the moment you caught us kissing.”

“Maybe you were in denial for a long time,” she continued. The house was so quiet except for her voice. It felt like every word was digging into some infected, vulnerable place inside my body. “I will give you the benefit of the doubt. But enough is enough. Give it up. You’re only hurting yourself. You’re looking like an idiot.”

I was so pathetic.

“Let her go.” Ymir ended. She did not linger and left him to wallow in his broken pride and humiliation. 

Why did I believe that… if I tried hard enough, if I put my all in something, that everything would turn out alright?

I thought that’s how it was supposed to work. And, now?

I am left wanting—waiting for a world that made sense, because it no longer did, and that made me feel…

It made me feel not alright.


	55. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take by Cyn, Khai

My hand was small compared to hers. Tinier than I thought they were. Her dark and long and slender fingers towered over my own by at least two inches. She flexed her fingers, pressing them downward and overlapping my fingertips. 

“How did you sleep?” Ymir asked. I couldn’t see her face but her free hand wrapped around me, pulling my back taut to her front. I could feel her chin on top of my head. I wondered if she was marveling at our hands, too. 

“Really good,” I admitted. It was the best sleep I got in a long while. At first, I thought I would’ve had to sleep with a different blanket, or maybe a whole separate bed, but the moment I laid by her I couldn’t pull away. It was foreign and strange. I never had to share a bed with anyone. Not that I had a choice. Mother never wanted to be around me, let alone Grandma. Papa never dared. 

Ymir hummed and brought her hand down and lowered her head to my shoulder. I could feel her sniff at my clothing. I wondered what she thought of it. 

Ymir exhaled and buried her face into my shoulder. 

“Do you really have to go?” She breathed through my clothing. I could feel her hot and humid breath warm my skin with every huff. I don’t think she knew what she was doing, but she was making it hard to say I had to go. 

“Yeah, I do,” I offered her comfort by leaning back into her. “My Father wants me home to discuss things.” 

“Reiner. Armin.” Ymir knew. 

For some reason, I wasn’t surprised. 

“How did you know?” I asked and turned my head to get a better look at her. I wish I hadn’t. Her golden eyes were peeking up at me from behind my shoulder. She looked beautiful and innocent with those eyes like that. It made my heart race into my throat. 

“Armin,” she released me for only a second to fish her phone from the bedsheets. Eventually, she found it and scrolled through messages before producing a text from Armin. 

 

 _Pixis told me Historia was staying with you tonight. Please be good to her. She’s having a hard time._

 

“Wait,” I furrowed my brows, “that didn’t say anything about—“ 

“Reiner was here this morning.” Ymir cut to the chase. “I could hear his loud mouth all the way here. Him and Bertolt are fighting, too.”

I felt my heart clench and my eyes immediately shot to the door, expecting him to make his entrance and catch me sitting in between Ymir’s legs. 

“He’s not here anymore,” Ymir soothed, putting her phone down and holding me again. It felt good. I felt like I was put together and could face the world. Even Reiner if he was bold enough to return. It was a feeling I never knew. 

“I told him to leave.” Ymir nuzzled the back of my head. “He heard you getting out of the shower.” 

I couldn’t imagine how that would’ve ended. I felt vulnerable at the thought of Reiner coming towards me, accusing and interrogating me as to why I was with Ymir after all that. No. The idea that he’d see me with only a towel on scared me. 

“He scares you.” Ymir stopped my thoughts. “I can feel how bad you tensed up.”

There was an anger licking every syllable she uttered as she began to realize the implications. 

“Krista,” her arms tightened. I was growing nervous. I wouldn’t be able to escape if I had to. “Krista, has he hurt you? Did he touch you?” 

“Ymir,” I put my hands to her arms, “y-y—“

“What? What about me?” Ymir wasn’t aware of her tight hold on me. 

“You’re scaring me,” it came out fast. Immediately she released me. I felt a wave of relief come over me, but, before I could even thank her, she pulled herself away from me. She retreated to the other end of the bed. When I caught her gaze, she looked upset. 

Rejected. 

“No,” I felt frustrated at everything. No matter what I did someone took it the wrong way or didn’t respect me. All my actions seemed to make someone unhappy. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Ymir didn’t look convinced. 

“I’m not—Ymir… I’m not used to that or this,” I tried to gesture to her and me and the aching space between us. “I’ve never had someone hold me… or hug me…”

“You sure had Reiner for awhile,” it was a low blow but I managed. I kept my composure even though I wanted to leave the second she said it. I swallowed my stinging pride and sighed. 

“I never had someone like you,” I worded it better, I think, because she didn’t seem so abandoned now. There was a light in her eyes and her shoulders dropped from their defensiveness. 

“You keep bringing up Reiner, Ymir, but you’re not getting it. You’re not seeing it. I don’t—I thought I was supposed to like Reiner. He was gentle and sweet at first, but, he’s just… he’s not taking anything good anymore. He’s always… so—“

“Possessive? Aggressive? An ugly ape?” Ymir added with the smallest hint of a smile. 

I shook my head. 

“More or less,” I halfheartedly agreed. “He’s not… who I thought he was, but, I guess…”

It felt hard to say it. 

All those books I read as a little girl that told me of perfect romances and happily ever afters. How a strong, tall, handsome man was supposed to fix everything and come and make me feel complete… 

“Even if he remained the same as I thought he was, the person who I first met,” I slowly ventured, afraid to say it out loud. I remembered how hard I wished for it to come true. How badly I wanted someone to come save me from things… and, yet, when the offer came to me… somewhere, deep in my heart, from day one, I knew I didn’t like him. I had rejected his storybook love. I knew I didn’t want him. 

“I knew,” I started up again, drawing my knees to my chest, “I knew I wouldn’t have liked him… I still don’t like him. Whether he was nice to me or not.” 

It was a hard pill to swallow. Ymir wouldn’t understand even though she crawled over, hushing me, and hugging me, and making me feel special… 

Ymir didn’t understand that my heart broke more after that. She wouldn’t know why it did. 

Though, I did. I understood fully well. 

All these bad feelings, the conflicted emotions of home, the crawling sensation of impending doom on the back of my neck—all of it, every last stupid drop of it—every fucking thing—it wasn’t going to be fixed. It wasn’t going to be washed away by Reiner. Or Ymir. 

Just because someone loved me… 

It didn’t mean I was okay. 

 

And I didn’t know when I ever would be.

**-x-x-x-**

Rod held his glass of whiskey with one hand, swishing the ice cubes around, and reading through the piles of mail on his office desk.

Pixis stood nearby with a trash bin at the ready. 

“So much junk mail,” Rod mumbled, throwing stuff away. It was surprising that even a man as rich as he was not immune to terrible scam mail and credit card offers. “Why do I pay for the premium box if I keep getting this?”

“Perhaps a new post office?” Pixis suggested. He glanced at some of the junk mail. A lot of it was Armin’s or Historia’s. “Or, maybe, we should tell the children that they shouldn’t sign up for every website with our post.”

Rod’s mustache twitched. 

“Maybe,” his eyes softened, “but, not anytime soon, Pixis.” 

Pixis knowingly nodded, helping throw more mail away. 

“I feel like I’ve done enough to be painted a monster,” Rod stopped and pulled away from the unaffected pile. He sipped his whiskey and stared up at the ceiling, tired. However, Pixis knew this man for decades, and he saw the guilt ridden on his face. Pixis had hoped that after Historia’s arrival that Rod would never wear that face again. Not after Frieda…

“I’m always good at that, aren’t?” Rod mumbled. “Making a bully and devil out of myself.” 

“You are good at being hard on yourself, sir,” Pixis soothed, putting the trash bin down. “You were startled. I would have been, sir, anyone would have been. Perhaps it wasn’t the most rational reaction, but it wasn’t an unforgiveable one.” 

Rod shook his head, slamming the rest of his whiskey. 

“You saw how Armin glared at me—you saw that hatred.” Rod growled. “He hates me.”

“Sir,” Pixis sighed, “Armin is at an age where he feels many things, but I doubt hatred is it. Perhaps angry or annoyed.”

Rod rubbed his large and wrinkly hands over his face. 

“Is it bad, Pixis,” it was a rhetorical question, “that I’m relieved it was Reiner in hindsight. My poor Historia! She must be heartbroken! But, Pixis, this is much better than the last time.” 

Pixis knew very well what Rod meant. 

“That man is still in jail.” Pixis mentioned. “I doubt he will get out until Armin is thirty.”

“And if that boy had any sense in him,” Rod grumbled, “he won’t pursue that pedophile.”

Pixis didn’t comment. It was a very terrible situation to stumble upon. Rod nearly killed the man. 

Even though Armin begged for Rod to not. 

Even if Armin screamed he loved the twenty year old. 

It was shortly before Historia came to the house and Armin had seemed to throw everything at the poor girl—his conflicted emotions over the man who he thought he loved and the loss of his sister. 

“I’m sure Armin is in a better place. He was vulnerable.” Pixis added, trying to quell the anger boiling underneath Rod’s mask. 

Pixis remembered how Rod had to read the evidence of Armin consenting and offering the man to come to his home. Surely, the man was caught with Armin in his lap and kissing, but it did not change a thing. 

“Men who prey on the young sicken me,” Rod seethed and angrily crumpled up mail into balls and threw it into the trash. “Men should know better.”

“I agree,” Pixis nodded. “It won’t happen again. We both will make sure of it.”

“Thank you, Pixis,” Rod exhaled. “I just wish Armin… would stop being so difficult. I give and I give but he takes and asks for things he shouldn’t have—older boyfriends, for one. Why can’t he be like Historia and get a good, suitable boyfriend?” 

“Well, sir, that I do not know.” Pixis shrugged. It wasn’t a lie to know Armin had a strange fixation on older men, but it was not healthy. Pixis couldn’t tell why Armin was that way. 

“Perhaps,” Pixis ventured, “sir, we should think of a quality psychologist for the two. Historia seems withdrawn still and Armin seems to be lashing out again. Why else would he take Reiner—“

“I know, Pixis, I know,” Rod huffed, “but, we must find one we trust… if we don’t…”

“I know, sir.” Pixis stopped.

Rod had nothing else to say as he glanced down at his hands where a thick envelope laid. It had Historia’s old name—Krista Lenz—written on it in a thick, messy ink. 

“What is this?” Rod frowned and examined it closer. 

It was a letter addressed to her by a man named. 

“Harold Lenz,” Rod furrowed his brows.

“That’s Historia’s grandfather,” Pixis reminded, “I wonder why he’s attempting to contact.”

“It wasn’t a part of the agreement,” Rod sneered and angrily threw the letter into the bag. “I had paid them to not pursue contact.”

Pixis was quiet and observed as Rod eventually gave up with mail sorting. 

“Good night, Pixis,” the man departed, “we will pick this up tomorrow.”

“Of course, sir. I will take out the trash tonight.”

“Good idea. Good night.”

**.  
.  
.**

_Historia. We need to talk._

I had to open Reiner’s messages sooner or later. There were at least twenty of them. They ranged from profuse apologies to accusations about why I was with Ymir. 

I didn’t have the energy to reply. 

Reiner was too much and I knew if I said a thing then he’d drag it out. I wasn’t emotionally invested in that. 

“Miss Reiss,” Pixis’ voice whispered from the door and I nearly jumped out of my skin. “I’m sorry to intrude.” 

“I-I-It’s fine,” I held the spot above my heart. 

“I know you prefer solitude after a certain time, but, I have something to give you.” He provided a crumpled letter in his hand and put it on the side table by my door. “I advise that you keep this a secret. It’s of importance, I assume, but your father had attempted to throw it away.”

I was confused. Why would Father throw something of mine away? 

“Goodnight, Miss Reiss,” Pixis withdrew from my room, but he didn’t leave without adding a comment. 

“Remember, I have your best interests in mind.” Then, I was left alone. 

I only waited till I couldn’t hear his footsteps to get up and investigate. I wonder what Pixis deemed important to go against father’s decision. Sometimes, I thought, it felt like Pixis held this house together and knew the ins and outs more than my father. 

I got to the letter and picked it up. 

A smell came from it. 

An old sweet vanilla with a hint of dust and a log fire. 

I felt my throat tighten as I turned the letter and saw the writing. 

My hands shook. 

“Papa…”


	56. Our Silly Fathers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Silly Fathers by Rubblebucket

“I don’t know why Dad would throw this away,” I held the letter to my chest. I was afraid of Father finding it. 

Armin noticed. 

“It’s alright,” he assured, “Dad is too pissed at me to come into my room anytime.”

Armin seemed rather happy about that outcome, but his eyes were looking at the letter. Curiosity and something else…

“I used to get letters from a friend.” Armin frowned. “Father took those away from me, too. He thinks he knows best.”

Usually, I would pick at Armin’s privacy but I doubt he minded right now. He had a look about him that begged for someone to listen. Even if he kept looking away and scowling at the door… 

“Who was your friend?” I asked. I had ideas on what kind of person they’d be but I couldn’t imagine Dad doing that to him for no reason. Then, again, Armin said Dad was homophobic…

“He was my boyfriend. ‘Was’…” Armin murmured, crossing his arms. “Father didn’t understand.”

I lightly nodded. 

“Are you still in touch with him?” I ventured. Armin hadn’t ever spoken of official boyfriends before. I was curious as to why he kept this a secret. 

“No.” Armin’s brow furrowed. “Father made sure of that.”

“A-ah,” I withdrew a little. I definitely hit a nerve. “I’m sorry…um… did… did Pixis keep his letters for you?” 

“No.” Armin curtly responded, frowning. 

Suddenly, I wondered why Pixis made the exception for me. From what I’ve watched, Pixis doted on Armin and ensured he got everything he needed and more. In a way, Pixis was like a second father to the both of us. It only made me sadder thinking about it—how hurt Pixis must’ve been upon hearing my sister’s death. Not only because she passed away but to not receive recognition of his sorrow because he was just the butler, not her real father. 

“You’re so calm,” Armin suddenly said, bringing me back from my thoughts. “After all that happened, you look as if nothing is bothering you.”

“What?”

“Reiner and you are probably going to break up. Bertolt has stopped being Reiner’s friend. Hitch keeps bitching to me about how suddenly Ymir stopped texting her. Father is avoiding us. Pixis has me on lockdown…and, yet, you come out of this unscathed.” Armin narrowed his eyes a little. 

“Why is it that you always somehow slip by without ever getting in trouble? Reiner knew you and Ymir were doing things but you weren’t ever publically shamed. Ymir knew you were dating Reiner… yet, she stuck around and waited, and, trust me, Historia, I can tell she isn’t the waiting type.” Armin pointed an accusing finger at me. “You get away with a lot of shit, y’know that? Even Bertolt, who has been in love with Reiner forever, he couldn’t hate you—and he’s such a vindictive person these days!” 

I swallowed, staring at his finger. 

“What game are you playing at?” Armin didn’t have an edge to his voice but his eyes were steeled. “What is it that you really want? You even have Father wrapped around your finger. The whole school is in love with you. You cheated and acted like a shitty person to the person you’re supposedly in love with, going in-between your boyfriend and Ymir, but, in the end, Reiner is the bad guy, Ymir forgave you, and you still—you fucking still!—you still have a good reputation and nobody even thinks badly of you. Not even Hitch! And she’s the worst of them all!” 

Armin threw his hands up in the air, huffing at me, and falling back onto his bed. 

“I fucking give up! Nothing makes sense with you around! It’s like the whole world will bend over backwards for you!” 

I wasn’t ready for that. I didn’t even know what brought it on, but he wasn’t wrong. In fact, it didn’t come as too much of a surprise. 

I dug my toes in the bed and watched them curl and grasp at the sheets. 

He was right. He hit the nail on the head… that I was an awful person who kept getting away with everything. I struggled with those thoughts long before he said this. Sometimes they kept me up at night, haunting me, reminding me that there was something wrong with me. 

Why did I feel remorse at night? Shouldn’t I feel terrible about cheating on Reiner when I’m kissing Ymir or saying yes to our secret dates? How was I able to smile so easily by him when we both knew my heart wasn’t in it? 

“Nothing worked out like that for me,” Armin continued. I looked up to see him with his back to me. 

“It wasn’t too long ago. It was right before you came here. Maybe a few months before. Not longer than three, I think…” his voice trailed and he exhaled. I watched his shoulders slump and his arms go up as he ran his hands over his face. 

“I had met a guy. Right away, he told me I was cute and that he’d like to have coffee with me. It was my first time drinking coffee when we had our date. It wasn’t what I expected but it was nice. A lot like him, actually. He was a college student, majoring in engineering, and he was about to graduate.” He continued. 

I felt a lump grow in my throat. Armin and I were only fourteen. 

“He was ten years older than me,” it was like he knew my thoughts. “But he didn’t seem like the rest of the adults. He treated me kindly, he helped me study, and, I guess… what I loved the most was that he treated me like I was a person… Father talks to me like a wall, like a servant, and Pixis… well, Pixis is Pixis… but, David… he was different. It was like he knew what I needed to hear.”

“Armin…” It came out of my mouth. It felt wrong. 

“I know.” Armin barely shrugged. “He was too old. I was too young… but, I think age doesn’t make a difference. I felt something for him—I really did, Historia… and, I knew he felt something for me, too, but… we were too hasty. He posed as a math tutor and would come over every Friday. He’d have dinner with us, too, and, well…y’know…one night, we got into it and Father and Pixis came in to offer David a ride home and to check on us…”

“Armin,” I felt sick to my stomach, remembering things I didn’t want to, “that’s not okay.”

“I know that!” Armin snapped. “But who else did I have?!”

“My guy friends just used me for sex! They just wanted something warm to fuck! Father was an asshole who didn’t care about how I and Frieda felt! Pixis was too busy with Frieda all the time! Mom left long time ago! All I had was David!” Armin was pissed as he slammed his fists on the bed. 

“Everyone judges my decision! David will be in jail for half of his life because of me! He was the only person I had after Frieda died! I was alone!” Armin began to cry. “Father doesn’t want to believe it’s his fault, but it is! If he—if he—“

I didn’t know how to comfort people. I was never taught how to. I only knew how the movies went—a few words of wisdom and a hug. But, this? This was heavy. It was hard to take in and difficult to accept and understand. It was twisted and curled like a forest of mirrors. Nobody could tell where one problem laid and where it ended with the overwhelming angles. 

“Armin, stop,” I didn’t know what else to do. Something was building up inside of me that wasn’t sympathetic. It was making me sick. 

“No,” the fire in Armin’s voice was giving out to the grief that was bottled up. “You can judge me all you want. I don’t care. The heart wants what it wants.”

He paused. 

And then he bitterly laughed. 

“If anyone should understand that,” he finally turned, glaring at me, “it’s you and Father.” 

I didn’t know my own body. 

In an instant, I had reached out and slapped Armin across the face. Immediately, his fair skin was turning hot red. 

His eyes were wide as he stared at me in utter shock. 

I had never felt so angry in my life as I seethed at him. My hand was shaking. I could feel it in my bones—the need to slap him again, but I refrained. It took every ounce of my will not to hit him again. 

“I’m not here to be your punching bag,” the words escaped my mouth faster than my slow mind could comprehend. 

In my head, everything was slow. Nothing mattered. It was all white and burning like a roaring fire of fury. 

“I never had the damn world given to me,” I pointed at him, shoving my finger into his shoulder. “I wasn’t born into riches like you. I didn’t once having a loving family like you did. I didn’t go to some private school and have friends. You know what I had?” 

It was spilling out faster than I could comprehend. It was like a switch went off in my body and I couldn’t control the words I was vomiting out. 

“I was beaten. I was treated like a servant. The kids at my shitty school threw rocks at me and called me a slut when I was a child. The only person who I thought loved me was my grandfather, who I left behind in that shithole house. Even, then, you fucking spoiled brat, he did not show that he loved me—he did bare minimum.” I shoved his shoulder again. 

“My own fucking mother hated my guts, Armin. Do you know how that feels? To be born and not be wanted? Of course not.” I growled, removing my hand from him. 

“So, just fucking don’t,” I got up from the bed, “don’t fucking ever blame me for having a perfect life—I never had one. I still don’t but I’m trying to figure it out. I know I’m screwing up, okay? Does that make you happy? Is that what you want to hear—does that please your superiority complex?” 

I marched to his door, opening it and glaring at him one last time. 

It was like breath of fresh air—this anger, this pissed off feeling. I felt like I could conquer the world. It felt like my body was finally free. 

It scared me. 

“At least I have one thing going for me, Armin—at least I don’t blame other people for my mistakes! Unlike you!” 

I slammed the door. 

How could something so terrible feel so good?

**-x-x-x-**

The break room was crowded as hospital staff sat at the tables, eating their lunches and smiling. Baldur was laughing at a coworker’s joke before his stopped, face lighting up.

Baldur was an easy and gentle and kind man. It would be hard to find someone who genuinely hated him. He had earned the respect and friendship of all who came across him, so, when he looked like he had something to say, everyone gave their undivided attention. 

“So, the other day,” Baldur swallowed his food quickly, excitement in his eyes, “my daughter, Ymir, she brought home a friend. Her first friend at school! She has been having a hard time adjusting. Some of the kids there are being short with her. Especially my son’s friend. But! She came home and introduced me to her friend! Historia Reiss! Rod’s daughter!”

A few staff were pleasantly surprised. 

“But that’s not the point,” his smile was brimming as he looked at everyone, “Ymir called me dad for the first time! She called me dad!”

“Oh, Baldur,” a nurse came up to him, patting his shoulder, “that’s so good to hear!”

“That’s good news!” A man nodded. “It took my step-daughter years before she called me dad. Now, I’m going to be walking her down the aisle!”

“Ah! Lucky man!” Baldur congratulated. 

He felt so warm. It had been a few days since he touched his whiskey. Ever since Ymir called him dad, he felt like he was given a second chance. Someone who would look past his own faults and accept and love him for his earnest attempts to be a good father. 

Ymir was a strange but kind child. When he took her in, she didn’t struggle or complain. She took it with stride and adapted to it quickly. When she caught him drinking too much, she sat down and talked with him until he felt better. She would make extra dinner for him if his shifts were late. 

From day one, Ymir had shown him a silent filial love that he hadn’t felt since his wife divorced him. Even Bertolt hated him as much as his wife did. 

Sometimes, Baldur wondered whether it truly was him saving Ymir from juvenile, or whether he helped Ymir and she came to save him from his struggle with depression and self-loathing. 

“Isn’t Historia from some woman Rod cheated with?” A voice asked, hushed. 

Baldur’s glanced over, paying attention to the conversation now. 

“I heard the woman was his old mistress.” 

“I heard that, too.”

“Did she die? Why would he take in his daughter now…?”

“Well, I don’t want to start rumors, but… maybe he felt guilty?”

“Maybe… he did lose Frieda right before he took Historia in.”

“Oh, Frieda…” 

Baldur lowered his gaze to the table. 

Frieda was an angel. Every holiday, she’d send all the staff baskets and would take the time to visit the hospitals for the sick children. She’d hire Santa’s to go visit the orphanages and take their wish lists and buy them their most wanted toys. She truly was a saint amongst everyone—an idol to the goodness of the world. 

Baldur swallowed the lump in his throat. 

Nobody really knew what was wrong with her. How hard it was… 

Baldur knew, though. Sometimes, he felt like he knew too much. 

“I think Historia is a good girl,” Baldur spoke up, cutting off everyone’s gossip. “She was very kind. She became my daughter’s friend even though Ymir can be rough around the edges… there aren’t many people like Ymir in that school. Kids pick on her for it, but Historia chose her out of everyone to be friends with.”

A few of the people looked away in embarrassment and shame. 

“I don’t care what reasons Rod took her in for,” Baldur continued, “but he is a good man for giving her his home and caring for her.” 

People wouldn’t understand it. Indirectly, Rod had helped Baldur find a way to grapple his depression by giving Ymir a fighting chance for a normal childhood. 

“He’s a good man.” Baldur returned to eating his food, frowning. 

“I’m sorry, Baldur,” the nurse kept her hand on his shoulder, “I don’t think anyone meant to do wrong—“

“Baldur.”

Everyone in the room jumped and whipped their heads toward the door. 

The devil himself stood there, Rod Reiss. 

The people who spoke ill had suddenly turned pale in fear. Others gaped. Baldur only stood up, smiling. 

“Good morning, sir!” 

“Good morning,” Rod curtly smiled before glancing at the staff, “good morning to all of you.”

“Good morning!” People gushed, trying to save face. Rod gave them a tepid smile. 

“I was here for a meeting and decided to come down here to have a talk with you, Baldur. Would you mind coming up to the conference room?” Rod asked, holding the door open for the man. 

“Of course, sir!” Baldur went to grab his food but stopped. He glanced at his watch and frowned. “Though, it might have to be quick, sir. My lunch is about to end.”

Rod nodded and the two departed. 

Baldur followed behind the man, whistling a happy tune, as Rod seemed less than enthused. From afar, they were quite the pair, Rod was small and stout and Baldur was tall and thin. Beside each other, they looked like caricatures. 

By the time they got into the conference room, Baldur sat down, trying to shovel his food into his mouth as Rod sat down. 

Beside him.

The closeness wasn’t lost on Baldur. He gulped down his food. 

“It isn’t often you come to visit with your doctors personally, sir.” Baldur said. “Is there something that’s concerning you?”

“Oh, not at all,” Rod exhaled, “though, I am unsatisfied how gossipy the staff are.”

Baldur snorted. 

“I can understand that, sir. It seems it gets the best of everyone.”

“Certainly.” Rod paused. He looked up at the man and a genuine smile finally grace his face. “However, it seems to not get you. A good man of character. You always were and always will be, Baldur.” 

Baldur chuckled, itching the back of his neck. 

“I try!” 

“I could always count on you. You always keep your promises.” Rod took out a handkerchief and began to pat his shiny forehead. “But, I wasn’t here to speak of that.”

Baldur felt a weight lift off of his shoulders. He didn’t want to speak of it, either. The secrets that he had to keep of Rod and Frieda the weeks before her passing… 

“It appears my little girl, Historia, she has been good friends with your daughter.” Rod tucked away his handkerchief. “Ymir? Sorry, sometimes I mangle such delicate names.”

“Yeah, you said it right.” Baldur assured. 

“Ymir has been such a good friend of Historia’s.” Rod was staring at his own hands now. His fingers were lightly smoothing the table in thought. “Historia has had a tough life, Baldur, and I’m guilty of not being in it for a long time. When I took her in, she was hurt and so lost, but, even as I cleaned her up, got her clothes, tutors, and all, she still had a hard time interacting with anyone.”

Baldur frowned. He had an inkling as to why. Rod knew it, too. 

“She had been hurt. By her mother, her family, and… a stranger.” Rod was quiet. “I could see it in her eyes that she didn’t trust anyone. Even when she got to school and all the kids were eager to become friends with her—Reiner was one of the many boys who chased after her, too. At least that’s what Armin told me.” 

Baldur gave Rod a gentle smile. He wanted the man to know he understood and was here to listen. 

“She is very beautiful and kind,” Baldur admitted. She reminded him of Frieda… though he’d never admit it. 

“She is. She definitely is.” Rod exhaled. “I thought she’d make lots of friends but she keeps her distance with everyone. Even me, Armin, and Pixis, but, then, out of nowhere, your Ymir comes in and it’s all my Historia wants to talk about—how she and Ymir went and did this and that and how funny Ymir is.”

There was a brief silence. 

“My Historia has found a friend she really loves and trusts. After all that I heard she went through, it makes me happy as a father… that your daughter can give her that sort of friendship.”

Baldur felt like Rod took the words right out of his mouth. 

“Ymir is the same way. I feel the same way.” Baldur agreed. 

Rod and Baldur looked at each other for a long time before chuckling. 

“So, you came here to tell me this? That our daughters are good friends?” Baldur smiled. 

He wouldn’t say it out loud but he and Rod weren’t very different with their circumstances. If he had to choose anyone in the world, he believed Rod knew how it felt to be in his position. 

“I came here to say thank you.” Rod stood up, patting Baldur’s shoulder. “Ymir can come over whenever she likes. She will always have a place in my home.”

“So will Historia, though,” Baldur lightly jabbed his elbow into Rod’s big belly, “I don’t have over ten bedrooms for her to choose from! You Ol’ rich dog!”

Rod laughed at this, pushing Baldur’s arm away and slapping the back of his back. 

“Watch it there, buster,” Rod laughed more, “I am your boss!”

“Yes, boss!” Baldur got up, giggling, and grabbing his stuff. “Speaking of, sir, I got to get to my shift. It was nice talking to you.”

Baldur was already hustling towards the door. 

“Baldur,” Rod called out. The tall man turned around to see the other man smiling, hands in his pockets, and looking pleased. 

“Congratulations on being called father. When Historia first called me that… I felt my heart melt.”

“Hah… thanks, sir,” Baldur lingered. “… It really makes you feel like everything will be alright, doesn’t it?”

Rod’s smile stayed as he shifted his gaze to the ground. 

“Even after all that happen,” Rod nodded, “it really does.”


	57. Stay with Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pray for Me (feat. Oragami) by Said the Sky, Oragami  
> How We Feel by Panama

School was different. 

From what I heard, Reiner had tried to stay home but his father forced him to come and drove him here himself. His father even missed work and chewed him out. Or, at least, that’s what Jean figured when he saw Reiner and his dad arguing in the car drop off. 

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Jean exhaled, glancing around at everyone. “Bertolt won’t talk to Reiner. Reiner keeps acting like he wants to come over, but won’t. Even Armin is avoiding me!” 

I didn’t have much to say about that. 

Last night, I was furious. I still was in some ways. 

“Yo,” Ymir had waltzed over, kicking Jean’s feet down and smiling at me. “You feeling any better?”

It was hard not to smile back. It was one of the first times Ymir actually spoke to me in our first period. She usually was repelled off by Bertolt and Reiner, but, now, since they were sulking, she was taking the opportunity. 

It didn’t go unnoticed by Reiner, Bertolt, or Armin. Let alone the class, actually. 

“Yeah,” I nodded, pushing my hair back behind my ear. 

Jean rolled his eyes and slapped his feet back up on the table. 

“What was wrong with you?” He asked. Ever since Reiner became my boyfriend, Jean had turned a one-eighty and treated me no different than everyone else. Lost interest, he had said to Hitch one time. Somewhere, I was relieved he did, and it was strange to say that I liked it a lot more that he treated me like everyone. It felt nicer than everyone’s over-the-top niceness. 

“She got sick over the weekend,” Ymir kicked his feet down again and then put her own up. She stretched out, easily taller than him and preventing him from putting his legs up once more. Unless he wanted to put them on hers. 

“Oh,” Jean frowned, “I’m glad you’re over it, then.”

He was still a kind person once you got past his rough exterior. 

“C’mon, give me some room,” Jean jabbed an elbow into Ymir, trying to get her feet to move. I smiled, watching them lightly bicker. 

“You got room,” Ymir smirked, “when you’re tall like me, you need all the room you can get.”

“That’s not fair! I had my feet up there first!” Jean quipped. Ymir seemed to mull it over for a few seconds before nodding. 

“Y’know what? You’re right,” Ymir took her feet down. “Go ahead. My bad.”

“Thank you,” Jean was a little surprised. “See? It wasn’t so hard…”

Jean leaned back on his chair again and put his feet up with a satisfied smile. 

“Nothing beats this.” Jean sighed. 

“Not even afterschool detention?” Miss Zoe stood at the door, smiling so brightly. Everyone sat up straight. Even Ymir jolted herself to a proper position. 

Jean fell backwards and gaped and struggled and scrambled to get back into his seat. Correctly. 

“N—No—Miss Zoe!” 

“Ah! That’s good to hear! I wouldn’t want you to have to spend after school with me!” She chortled. 

It was scary. 

“Let’s begin class before another one of you falls out of their seat!”

**-x-x-x-**

I had my water bottle to my hot lips. Every sip made me nearly choke with how much I was panting, gasping for air. The ice in my bottle soothed my burning throat as our instructor motioned for Ymir. A lot of our Dance Class used to not like Ymir, but now they acted like she was the star. They flocked her like she represented their ‘squad’.

It felt like it was all overnight when it happened, but somewhere I felt upset by it. I didn’t know why. Something about watching people who used to hate Ymir becoming practically fan girls had unsettled me. 

“Ymir,” the instructor clapped, never missing a beat in the excitement. Everyone had been tasked to choreograph their own dance over Thanksgiving break. Today was the first day we got to show it. If we liked how our dances went, we could continue them in friendly competition and improve upon them to be a final at the end of the school year. Winner would have their entrance fee waived to the district competition. 

“How about you show us your dance?” She held her hand out as Ymir slapped her iPod into the woman’s hand. Our instructor went to the stereo and plugged in the aux. 

Another gulp of cold water went down but I still felt so hot. I couldn’t stop drinking my water as my eyes transfixed on Ymir. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. 

The intro of a guitar filled the room as Ymir stood still, breathing. I could see her abdomen muscles were tense in her black sports bra. Sometimes, I felt like she knew what she did to me. 

I doused my throat with water, trying to chill out. My dance wasn’t exactly straining to do—I had opted for interpretive with a slow song. While my teacher said I did great, she also told me I lacked zest or I look zoned out—not feeling it. She wanted to see me do something outside of my comfort zone. 

Ymir’s body began to rock slowly my attention was glued on her. My thoughts stopped as I heard the other girls squeal. 

Ymir’s body moved fluidly, perfectly. It felt natural—provocative and loud. It demanded attention and emotions, and it got it. 

I couldn’t bring myself to drink more water as I stared, mouth ajar, and straw near my lips. 

The bass was expressed through her. It was in synch with her. 

I was lost for the entirety of the dance until the very last note. When it was all done, the girls cried out in excitement and awe. They were already crowding and talking about it, high fiving her. Some even holding her hand. 

It felt bittersweet. 

I loved that she was getting the attention she deserved—the unabashed love she earned. But my jealous heart wanted her to only feel my happiness. I wanted her to feel fulfilled with only my attention. 

But her smile? 

Worth it in the end. 

“You’re so good! Is this what you’re going to enter into the competition if you win?” 

“How did you do all of this over the break? I was so busy!” 

“Ymir! Practice with me!” 

They were clingy but Ymir was so happy. The smile she wore was from ear to ear—the little cheeky shit. I had to laugh at her cheeseball smile. 

“What you think?” Ymir asked and the squad moved to the side for me. 

It was unsaid, I’d like to think, that they supported me and Ymir. At first, they had talked bad about it but over time, I think they saw how much happier I was with Ymir. Maybe they thought I deserved that much and accepted us. I guess I would never know. 

“It was really great!” I couldn’t contain my awe. Some of the squad laughed and one nudged Ymir while wiggling eyebrows. 

“Sounds about right!”

“And that’s it? It was better than that!”

Everyone was getting their word in at once until our instructor clapped her hands. 

“And,” she nodded, “it truly was. I think we might have a solid contender for the districts.” 

The girls were in an uproar again as they clamored over each other in glee. It would mean our whole team would be able to go travel somewhere on the coast and practically vacation for the competition.  
It was pretty exciting. I never been to the coast but I knew it was a much bigger place than here. 

“I’m glad you liked it,” Ymir’s smile softened. She walked away from the crowd around the instructor. “Though, it wasn’t my favorite.” 

“Why’s that? There’s another?” I frowned. I thought she would’ve liked to show off what she liked best. 

“Yeah, but, I guess I chickened out. I’d like to show you, though,” she stood close by me, nudging me with her elbow, and smiling as she watched the girls freaking out. I felt butterflies in my stomach. 

“I-I’d like to see.” I went to suck on my bottle but there was nothing in it. I nearly choked as I coughed. Ymir looked startled before laughing at me. 

“You’re such a nerd!” She snickered. 

“Whatever!”

**.  
.  
.**

Ymir was at the door, waving goodbye to the last of the squad. Some had stayed behind because Ymir was but I think they got the memo when they saw it was only them and us.

“Well, don’t stay too late!” One threw the keys to Ymir. “Lock up is at six!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Ymir playfully shooed them away and closed the door. I couldn’t stop smiling, wondering what Ymir had to show. Then, I saw her move her hand down and lock the door. I was glad she did. I didn’t want anyone to interrupt or see what I was going to see. It was mine alone. 

“You never told me anything about working on them,” I ventured. During the break, Ymir was quiet about her routines. If we weren’t in the same Dance Club, I wouldn’t had known she liked dancing. “You sounded busy the whole time.”

“Oh yeah?” Ymir scuffed her shoes at the ground, squeaking them. “Well, I make time for things that mean a lot to me.”

Oh. 

This one was more special? My curiosity was practically hurting me. I felt so invested in it the moment she said those words. 

“Um… so, do you still want to watch it?” Ymir paused. She was uncertain. 

“Of course.” It was easy to say. No hesitation. 

She grinned, taking my words and running with them. She jogged over to the speakers and began to plug in her iPod. I walked to the middle of the room and sat down by the wall. My legs were feeling weak. 

“Okay,” Ymir began to jump in place, pumping herself up as she flipped through her library for the song. The lights were beginning to dim and I noticed that Ymir had the remote for them. I felt my cheeks burn at what I was about to see. 

The intro was slow but had sustenance. Ymir’s body interpreted it perfectly as her body swayed. It was good just like her first song, but I couldn’t see why it was her favorite. The song wasn’t offering too much, but, then the first words were spoken and I understood. 

It felt like she was telling me how she actually felt for the first time.

_Alright you know, I don't want to be the one_  
I guess its hard to say if you don't want to be in love  
Stay tonight, it won't change how we feel  
Although its late, I guess I'll give it one more try  
Even though it's hard to think, we'll find your keys in the dark  
Stay tonight, it won't change anything 

It was a song I only had to hear once to know it by heart.

Ymir continue and stopped short of the end. She was panting and looking at me. Her eyes were embarrassed and I could practically tell she wished she didn’t show me. 

“That was more awkward than I wanted,” she mumbled, itching the back of her neck. 

I stood up and went over to her and held her hand. 

“I liked it,” I assured her. “I related to it a lot.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, of course I did,” I frowned. “More than anything.”

“I’m glad you did… It was hard for me to express it in anything and I was just—“

“Ymir.”

“Y-Yeah?”

“I love you.”


	58. Friendly Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saccharine by Atta Boy

Ymir stared at me. 

“Me? You love me?” She pointed at herself in disbelief. 

I felt a smile tug at my lips as she hardened her gaze, looking at her own feet and then up at me. 

“You sure?” She didn’t seem convinced. In fact, she was analyzing me for any potential doubt. 

I reached out and took her hand. It was really sweaty as she withdrew it. 

“I’m all gross, Krista,” she shied away, embarrassed. “I don’t want you to remember my sweaty hand after that.” 

“It’s fine, I don’t mind,” I took her hand again and she let me hold it. It was very warm and I could feel every callous. Few small white scars striped her knuckles and fingers and the back of her hands. Most likely from rough housing or running about. Maybe some from fights. I didn’t know but I loved her all the same.

“You’re so weird,” Ymir was still acting squeamish about the idea of me taking her hand, but her face was red and she couldn’t hold my gaze. She kept looking everywhere but me. I couldn’t tell why until she brought her spare hand up to wipe at sweat. 

That’s when I saw it. 

The goofy smile that was fighting to take over. 

She kept trying to smear it off but she looked like a cheesy idiot as she grinned away. 

I laughed when she finally caught my gaze. She covered her face with her hand and groaned. 

“Krista, please,” she begged, “don’t look at me.”

“W-Wa-Wah-Why?” I couldn’t stop from giggling as she got more and more embarrassed. 

“I look stupid!”

“You look happy!” I swung her arm with mine, trying to urge her to smile more. “I like it!”

“Whatever! God!” Ymir was a mess. She couldn’t have looked goofier than she did now. It was the biggest cheese I’ve ever seen as she laughed. She even swung my arm back. 

“Look at yourself, dingbat!” Ymir pointed at the mirrors. “You look just as stupid—“

The door opened with a loud clang and I felt myself jump out of my skin. 

We both shot our heads back to see who came in. My gut and heart refused the dread that it was Reiner. 

“Yo,” Jean came in, throwing his duffle bag near Ymir’s. “I was—oh.”

He saw our hands together. 

“Uh, did I interrupt something?” 

“What? No,” Ymir frowned. Her smile melted away and she took her hand from mine. “What is it?”

It was strange to see Jean after school. I didn’t know he was in any other club. After the whole theatre club ordeal, a lot of people quit and were done with that stress. Reiner focused on sports, Bertolt went to chess, and so on, so forth. 

“I just got off of Art Club. I stayed back and, uh, my mom isn’t answering my calls. I think she’s still at the theatre. Can I get a ride…?” Jean sheepishly asked. “I can pitch gas money.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ymir crossed her arms, “but you can keep your money.”

“Ah,” Jean perked up, “thanks. I would’ve probably been here another hour.”

“No problem,” Ymir glanced at me. I felt like she was apologizing for the interruption. Maybe we’d have a more serious talk later…

“Well, we better go. It is getting late,” I chimed to help Jean feel welcomed. After all, he did walk in at a bad time. 

“Yeah, I have stupid homework for Levi. I’m sick of his shitty reading assignments,” Jean reverted back to his himself as he threw his hands up in exasperation. “Doesn’t he know that none of us care about half of this shit?” 

“Right?” Ymir grumped, scuffing her shoes as she went to fetch her iPod and go and grab her bag. “I’m already up to my balls in bullshit. I don’t need to hear about some fictional drama.”

“Fuck, say it louder,” Jean added. Ymir grabbed her bag and Jean followed suit as I trailed behind them. Jean noticed and nodded at me. 

“C’mon. Walk with us.” He invited. It wasn’t necessarily that I felt left out…

“Why’re you behind us anyways?” Ymir asked and glanced back. 

I sped up as fast as my legs could walk. 

Jean’s eyes widened and laughed. He walked slightly faster. Ymir raised and eyebrow and caught up with him. 

I felt my face turn red as I nearly had to jog to keep up. 

“It’s her little legs! She can’t keep up with us!” Jean was snickering as Ymir’s face lit up in realization. 

“Oh my God! Historia! You’re too short to keep up!” Ymir laughed as I ran up behind her and kicked the back of her leg. Her stilt-like legs almost tripped and tumbled to the ground as Jean screeched in laughter. He ran ahead as Ymir scrambled to keep her balance and took off running down the halls. 

“Mercy!” Jean yelled. 

“It was just a joke!” Ymir cried as I was catching up to her again, ready to head-butt her. 

“Not everyone can be tall!”

**-x-x-x-**

“I really like Jean,” Ymir scratched her chin as we sat in the driveway of my home. Pixis had already waved at us to let us know we could hang outside for a bit. Father must’ve been busy or something. Usually, Father would make us go inside and sit in the parlor. 

Sitting outside on the steps was no place for ladies, he’d say. Pixis was more lenient. 

“I think he can be really sweet,” I agreed, bringing my knees to my chest and hugging them. It felt nice to be able to talk like this. No longer did I feel a barrier between us. 

“Eh,” Ymir shrugged, “I like him because he’s funny and can be a little shit. Reminds me of my friend Connie.” 

“Connie… I don’t think you told me much about him.” 

“He’s my cousin—“

“You have a lot of cousins…” 

“The reservation is practically one giant family. You’re related to any person by some sort of great grandmother or whatever.” Ymir chuckled, kicking a pebble off the step. “But he’s really small. Kind of stuck up in his own way, cheeky, and a little bit of a smart ass.” 

“Hah.” I nodded. “I can see why he reminds you of Jean.”

We both heard the sound of tapping glass. We glanced about until we looked up to see Armin’s window. He had opened it and was putting something out. I squinted. 

“Is that… his cellphone?” Ymir glared. 

Armin kept holding his cellphone out the window for ten seconds longer until he pulled it back in and shut his window. 

“What the fuck?” Ymir growled. 

“I don’t know,” I exhaled, “we have a fight.”

“A fight? What did you say?” Ymir frowned but kept her eyes on his window. 

“… he was saying bad things about me. Mostly true things… and I slapped him.”

“…slapped him?”

“Across his face.” I nodded, ashamed. I didn’t know what overcame me. It was like something had snapped and my body was engulfed in rage. 

“Well,” Ymir snorted, “if he was talking bad to you, then, good. Did he stop when you did?”

“Ymir!” I couldn’t believe her sometimes. “It wasn’t okay.”

“Eh, well, whatever,” Ymir shrugged my disbelief off, “it sounds like he stopped doing what he was doing. Maybe he should be slapped more often.”

I remembered all the time I was slapped for small things. Just because I was late or misheard a direction or it wasn’t good enough. I didn’t want to believe Ymir believed in that. 

“Nobody deserves to be hit.” I glared at my feet. 

Ymir didn’t say anything as she exhaled, staring at her car. 

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Ymir got up, dusting her butt off from imaginary dirt. “I’m going to head home. Want me to give you that letter you made me put in my bag?”

“Yeah.” I was getting angry again at Ymir’s nonchalant behavior. I didn’t know why I had hit Armin in the first place. I was mad but—  
Ymir was at her car now, digging through her duffle. 

“Hey,” she frowned, staring at the letter in her hand, “… when you said you liked Jean… did you mean, uh, you really liked him? Like… a crush?” 

I felt my eyebrows furrow as I glared at her. 

What games was she playing at now?

“No? Why would I like him that way? Ymir, I just told you—“ why was she being so difficult? I was getting pissed off again. 

“Then why does it say his name?” Ymir’s voice was weird. She turned around and brought the letter to me. 

“It… looks like…”

The letter had Jean’s name… but it wasn’t my handwriting. 

“…that isn’t mine?”

Ymir stared at it. 

“It looks like… Marco’s…” 

“Marco’s?”

My anger left as I stared at Ymir’s steeled gaze as her hand shook. 

“How could it be Marco’s?”

“He lives far away… right?” I asked, reaching out to grab it but she wouldn’t let me have it. 

“He does.” She gritted. Before I could say another word she had already ripped open the letter and snatched the torn notebook paper from within. 

“Ymir! That was Jean’s!”

“I don’t care,” she ran up the stairs towards the outside light, using the light to read through it. 

“It is Marco’s handwriting! Nobody else writes their J’s so ridiculously!” 

I couldn’t help myself as I jumped up to try and read it, too. 

Ymir was in shock and I couldn’t believe how small the world was. I couldn’t read it because Ymir was too tall. 

“How could Jean know Marco?” Ymir asked. 

“I don’t know,” I was blown away just as much as she would, “but… Ymir, I really want to get my letter back. Right now.”

Ymir took her eyes off the letter and stared at me. She seemed so far away. 

“You never told me who it was from.”

I grabbed her hand, feeling stupid again. Why was I getting so mad at her? It felt like my emotions were being thrown back and forth lately. 

“My Papa.”

**-x-x-x-**

Jean was at his desk, staring at the letter in his hands. It was to a girl named Krista. He didn’t know how it got in his bag, but he had been expecting to find another letter—his letter. He had that letter for months. At least since mid-August, but he never had the heart to open it. He kept thinking of his family’s vacation to the lake, the cabin, and the other boy’s smile. 

He thought of their short time together. The small freckles that were all over his face and the broken smile the boy had—how a tooth was chipped and when the boy pointed out two false teeth. He remembered him explaining what happened and everything. 

Why was he so scared to open the letter?

He couldn’t bring himself to respond. He was afraid of what would happen next. 

Jean didn’t want anyone to know. At least… not right now… maybe never…

Jean grumbled, stiffly banging his fists on the table over and over. His curiosity was eating at him. Why did he have a letter for a girl named Krista? He had nearly torn his room apart searching for his letter. He had never left it at home in fear his mother would snoop. All he had was this letter addressed to Krista now.

“Jean-bo? What’re you doing in there?” His mother called from downstairs. 

“Nothing! Jeez!” Jean yelled back, frustrated. He always felt like he couldn’t do anything on his own. He clearly recalled how his mother and father fought on the vacation, but at least they decided not to divorce. 

“Yeah,” he quietly mumbled. His finger went to the envelope’s lip, tracing it and lightly peeling the edges. It wouldn’t hurt to open it.

What was the worst that could happen? 

Jean nearly shitted himself when he heard his phone go off. He stared at Ymir’s name before picking it up and answering. 

“Hello?”

“Hey numbnuts! You grabbed my bag!”

“What? No, I didn’t,” he frowned, staring at the duffle. He went over to take a better look at it on his bed. 

“If you open it, you will find my school uniform.” Ymir snorted. 

Jean unzipped the bag as headlights danced over the walls from his window. He dug through it and pulled out a skirt. He loudly exhaled. 

“M’hmmm.” Ymir hummed. “Told you.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, do you want me to bring it tomorrow?” 

Though it was strange she’d have a letter in her bag, too. 

The headlights stopped on the walls. It must be Ymir…

Jean went to the window and parted the curtains a little to see Ymir’s car in the driveway, stalling. 

“Jean, your friend is here again!” His mom called out. 

Jean huffed. 

“I know!” He yelled again, annoyed. He wasn’t oblivious. 

“Before you hang up and come outside,” Ymir paused, “why do you have a letter from Marco?”

Jean felt his stomach drop and his body freeze. 

He hadn’t heard anyone say his name. He hadn’t uttered that name since this summer. 

He didn’t know what to say. 

“How do you know him?” Ymir asked again, almost accusing. Krista didn’t know why she came along for the ride. She was surprised Pixis allowed it. It was almost nine. 

“I—“

Ymir couldn’t get over the letter. She had to know.

Why did Marco write to him?

Why did he say all these cheesy things to Jean?

Why did he say he loved him? 

“Y-you opened the letter?” Jean felt his voice break a little. Puberty. Hopefully. “Why—why’d you do that? It has my name on it…”

“Marco is my cousin and best friend. I had a right.” Ymir continued. “Answer me.”

“I—“

“Ymir, you’re being rude!” Jean heard Historia hiss at her but the older girl didn’t seem to care. 

“I-I’m not telling you anything,” Jean forced out. “In fact, I’m going to open your letter now!” 

“See how you’ll like it!” Jean barked before hanging up and tearing at the letter before his voice of reason could stop him. His cellphone kept ringing as he tore the parchment out of the envelope and began to read it. 

His eyes furiously read the contents before widening. 

“Wh-what?”

Immediately, he felt like he wished he had never opened it as a desperate knock came at the front door. 

“Jean! It’s your friends!”


	59. Heart and Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heart and Soul by Bea Wain, Larry Clinton

The music box was the only comfort in the dreary house. The small room was dusty and forgotten, left unattended and abandoned like the room of a dead loved one. Again, he turned the switch so he could listen. 

The tiny bed’s springs creaked and groaned under his mass. It was so small. So very small. His tired eyes went across the sparse room to the lone dresser where the drawers laid open. Many of her clothes remained. 

It was as if she was in a hurry to get to school. 

Every day, it was like that—he woke up and it felt like she’d return with her smile and voice. Hollow as it was, it still brought him the greatest joy that he could never admit to. 

“Harold,” the shrill cry of his wife came from downstairs. 

His ex-wife now. 

With what little strength he could muster, he grabbed the wooden cane near him. He put it in front of him and grunted and groaned until he forced his feeble body up and hobbled out his granddaughter’s old room and to the top of the staircase. 

Below, boxes upon boxes of stuff were ready to be moved out—most of it was his but the court had not cared. 

“I’m leaving now.” She sniffled, glancing around the old house. Without Krista around, the house began to grow dingy. Cobwebs grew in places where old bodies couldn’t reach. The yellow wallpaper began to wrinkle near stubborn windows who refused to shut without force. The stair railing was forever broken from that fateful night. 

She sniffled again. 

Not out of sentiment. The woman never had an ounce of it in her body. It was only the cold draft coming in. 

“I’m leaving,” she held her arms out, exasperated. She was donned in a new fur coat with shiny pearls hanging on her jutting collarbone. The inheritance of her late uncle was being frivolously spent. His death was timely after their divorce after she took everything. All he had left was the house and land, graciously given to him after she got the letter of her newfound wealth. 

“Don’t you have something to say, Harold? Anything?” Her icy blue eyes stared up at him. “After all these years, do you not want to spit something at my feet?”

His bones ached from the cold. The pain was deep and hot in his throbbing hip as he gripped his cane. He wanted nothing better than a stiff drink and to sit in his chair. 

“We fought and fought,” she nodded at the young moving men, signaling them to carry the last of the boxes away. “Yet you never did take the last word. You never hit me even when I slapped you around. You stubborn man.”

There wasn’t any point in fighting. 

Harold exhaled, walking back to the room with the dying music box. 

“Harold, I’m talking to you!” She yelled, slapping her hand against the wall. “You absolutely have nothing to say as I leave? Nothing?”

He took the box in his hands and wobbled back to the stairs, eyeing the evil things before tenderly descending them. 

“A goodbye gift?” She asked, surprised. “You were always sentimental.”

Harold took his time as he limped down, grunting, and lingering on every step until he was right by her. 

“What is it, Harold?” She asked.

Harold snorted, shaking his head and walking past her to the parlor to sit in his dusty chair. 

“I have nothing to say to you.” He grumbled. “You old hag, you ol’ harpy—you’ve only taken every joy from me. You stole everything. You’re a good for nothing—gave me nothing of joy.” 

The old woman barked a laugh. 

“That’s more like it,” she scoffed, “I like that.”

She sharply turned to stare at him, sitting in his chair as he always had and will, by a dying fire, alone in a dusty and cobweb filled house. 

A broken man. 

“Goodbye, Harold. I’d say I would miss you.” She said, fluffing her fur stole before walking away, shutting the door behind her, and to never return. 

Harold sat at his chair, staring at the smoldering embers. 

How many years did he waste pretending everything was okay?

That this was all he could ever want—that this was enough to get by?

Where did his life go?

Harold sniffled as he grabbed the music box and twisted the handle once more, listening to its sharp notes. 

He was a good liar when he needed to be. 

If his loveless marriage had given him anything… it was his granddaughter he missed every day. 

Now, he was alone with nobody to blame but himself. He remembered the day Krista had begged for them to run away together, to move out. 

A little child could tell he was unhappy, too. How awful he was to sit by and just watch the horrid things his wife and daughter inflicted upon them both. 

He could’ve done something different. He could’ve saved them both but now it was too late. 

Krista hated him and wouldn’t return his letters.

Harold seized and hacked into his handkerchief as he pulled out the clipboard near his chair with the worn pen and paper. 

Despite it all, he had to keep trying. 

Maybe one day Krista would forgive him or at least tell him to stop contacting her. Anything. 

“Dear Krista,” he whispered, scratching down his words onto the paper. 

The pain in his hip continued throughout the whole time. An underlying problem that would make his body succumb soon. 

Soon. 

But not faster than the company of whiskey. 

Harold sipped it until he recalled the days of the war. The days of his own high school days. Of his childhood with his best friend. 

“I miss you, Krista.”

“Christopher… what would’ve you done?” 

Harold collapsed when he tried to return the music box upstairs. Too weak from the alcohol, opportunistic infection in his hip, and loneliness. 

“I-I can’t do this anymore…”

**-x-x-x-**

“Jean!” Ymir barged through the door faster than I could follow. I glanced back to see Jean’s mom laugh, thinking it was all some sort of joke.

It was hard to describe, but, deep down, I felt relieved—the letter was finally open. I no longer had the fear of opening it, or the responsibility of defying my dad because I did. 

“You’re the guy Marco met!” Ymir charged across the room and I didn’t get time to process the situation as I watched her haul him up by the scruff of his shirt, slamming him against the wall. “Why did you never write him back!? Ever answer his letter!? Why didn’t you!? Too good for him!? Huh!?”

“What the fuck!?” 

“He’s my cousin! My best friend! You fuck!” 

The coincidence of everything was dizzying as I stepped in, closing the door behind me and sitting down at his desk. I stared at the floor, waiting, wondering why it was all going down right now. 

It was like a stroke of luck that I couldn’t shake off. 

“He had been waiting forever and you just fucking brushed him off! You—you’re just a fucking—!” 

Without warning, Ymir punched him square in the jaw. 

“YMIR!” I shot up. 

Jean buckled and slouched out of her grip as he held his jaw, whining. Ymir hissed, shaking her hand around. 

“You’re a fucking dick, y’know that? A real piece of shit!” Ymir hissed. “Marco really liked you and you fucked him over!” 

Jean kept groaning and blinking back tears. 

I ran over, grabbing Ymir’s hands, trying my best to hold her back, but I don’t know how well I’d do that. I had to weigh as much as her arms did. As I struggled to keep her back, everyone got quiet as the door opened. 

“Cookies?” Jean’s mom asked with a big grin.

**.  
.  
.**

“Now that’s just childish. All of you.” Jean’s mom scolded Ymir and Jean on the couch. “Not you, though, Historia . Have some more.”

She pushed the tray of cookies back to me and refilled my glass of milk. 

“Jeanbo, you should be ashamed! I did not raise you like that! You know that it’s actually illegal to read someone else’s mail!” She huffed but then glared back to Ymir. “And, you, missy! Punching my baby! Sometimes he’s a knucklehead but some fights are best talked out! You should use your head more often! You two! I swear, you both must’ve been separated at birth!” 

“I’m so sorry my Jeanbo read your personal letter, Miss Reiss,” she bowed her head a little. “I promise he will learn better next time.”

The Reiss name was emphasized. Sometimes I forgot the respect and fear wasn’t brought on because of me, but because of my father. 

“I’m sorry,” Ymir apologized to Jean and then to his mom, “I got ahead of myself…”

“You sure did,” Jean tenderly rubbed his jaw, wincing. 

“Oh! My poor baby!” Jean’s mom fussed, rushing to him to give him kisses. Jean’s face grew red but it seemed like enjoyed being babied for the most part. 

My attention wasn’t stuck on him, though, but at the open letter in my hand. 

I finally had the courage to read it, or, more so, I couldn’t run from it anymore… 

_Dear Krista,_  
My health is bad. With your grandma gone, taking everything with her, I have nothing. When I die, I will leave the farm to you.  
I’m sorry.  
I love you and miss you.  
Love,  
Papa 

“Papa…?”

Ymir stood up at the sound of my voice. 

“You okay, Historia?” Jean asked. 

I watched as tears fell and splattered on the letter. 

“My Papa… h-he’s dying…”


	60. Crash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should This Noose Loosen by Civilian

On the way back, the drive was quiet. 

Ymir kept her eyes on the road. Every now and then, she’d fidget with the volume of the stereo. As if it was accidentally a fraction too loud that it would shatter the silence and my heart with it. 

From the corner of my eye, I could see her drum her fingers on the steering wheel. Without warning, her car hit a pothole and she seethed under her breath. The plate of cookies fastened with plastic wrap jostled for a moment. 

“Fuck,” she whispered, glancing at me repeatedly, trying to not take her eyes off the dark road for too long, “sorry…”

It was one of many apologizes I received this night. Jean had felt awful and his mom incessantly fussed over me. However, despite their pity, Ymir hadn’t said sorry until now. 

“At least the cookies are okay,” she said, shifting in her seat as we stopped at a red light. From its lurid hue, Ymir’s eyes were narrowed and stern as she stared in front of her. Her jaw was clamped shut. In fact, her whole face seemed stuck in a stiff expression. 

But her fingers continued drumming away with the beat of the song. 

I looked back to my lap. I could smell the cookies and it made me nauseas. They reminded me a lot of Grandma’s cookies. She’d always make them around Christmas as a rare treat for everyone. Lucky me, I was always guaranteed and rationed one during the holiday. Now, I had a plate full all to myself. I felt like I didn’t deserve them. 

“Ymir,” I spoke up as the light turned green, “I don’t want these cookies…”

I didn’t like this silence. It felt heavy and constricting. It was unlike Ymir to not have something to say. Every time I glanced at her, she would fidget even more. 

“Dammit,” she muttered as we stopped at another red light. It was so empty. It was like the city was punishing me and forcing me to endure this quiet discomfort. 

I couldn’t bring myself to ask her what was wrong. My tongue was heavy. 

“Krista, what’re you going to do?” Ymir quietly asked. Her eyebrows were furrowed. 

“Krista, can you tell me what’s going on?” 

The light turned green. 

I just had to wait for fifteen more minutes and I’d be home. We had to take the highway and take the exit home. If I could just hold out, I wouldn’t have to say anything. 

“Krista?” Ymir shot me a look as we went up the ramp and merged onto the highway. “Will you please tell me what’s going on? What’s wrong with your Papa? Why aren’t you calling him?” 

Ymir didn’t have a real clue as to what happened. It was something that I was grateful for. Somewhere deep in my stomach, I was scared of her finding out. I didn’t want her to pry at what I locked up long ago. 

I expected Ymir to push and shove and maybe even yell at me, but it didn’t come. She didn’t pry when I expected her to bulldoze down my walls. 

A part of me was thankful. 

“Krista,” she moved her hand to the volume dial and held it in her fingers. “I can’t force you to do anything for me, but I want you to know… I’m here for you, okay? I don’t know why you left your Papa or what happened, but I know you were crying a little while ago. I know something is bothering you, but you have to tell me. I can’t read your mind.”

The lump grew and grew in my throat until it felt like I’d whine if I tried to breathe. I focused my attention there, trying to ignore the part of me that wanted to blurt it all out. 

“Though,” she shifted in her seat, slowly cranking up the volume, “I wish you’d trust me.” 

The rest of the ride was drowned out with music as I kept my eyes forward. I wanted to cry again but I was so tired of always crying. It felt like ever since I had started school that everything was going wrong. People kept prying and picking at me. Others had preconceptions of me and wanted me to be the good girl—

I blinked away the tears that were forming. 

I had wanted them to believe I was a good girl, didn’t I? 

The tears came even though I hated them. I wanted to yell but all I could do is angrily and silently sob. I could tell Ymir saw but she kept her attention on the road. She didn’t say a word. 

I really fucking hated myself. I had worked so hard to be this perfect girl because that’s what I wanted, but, now? Everyone had so many different ideas of what I should be and what I should do that I felt like I was being eaten alive. Everybody wanted a piece of me and hated it when it wasn’t what they wanted. 

Armin, Reiner, Hitch, Bertolt, Jean, Grandma, Mother… 

I glanced over at Ymir, sniffling. 

Did Ymir hate who I was, too? 

Was that why she was so distant right now? 

I rubbed my sleeves into my eyes and nose, wiping away the tears and snot. It felt like I was a useless weak person that was only capable of crying. It was the same problem over and over. Back when I was with Papa, I didn’t cry as much. I had control of my world but then it was taken from me. 

Who the fuck was I now? If someone else got to live my life for one day, who would they think I am?

A spoiled girl who took everything for granted and cried woe is me? A person stuck in a cliché tragedy?

I was pathetic. 

Ymir would see that one day. If I told her all that happened to me, she’d find me pathetic, too. I would know, because I knew I was stupid and dumb. 

Unconsciously, my hands went to my thighs and I dug my nails into them. The stinging pain electrified my body, up and down my spine like a narcotic. I felt the soothing pain course through me. I deserved this.

“Krista,” Ymir was taking the exit off the highway, towards my home. “Hey…”

She didn’t say anything else as she placed her large, warm hand onto my thigh. I completely froze as I realized Ymir witnessed me hurting myself. My body grew stiff and highly sensitive to every movement. 

Her hand went to mine, gently rubbing them with her thumb. I didn’t know what she was trying but my hands loosened their grip on my skin. The broken skin stung against the fabric of my pants as she took my hand. 

“Ymir…p-please,” I tried to shake her hand off. “Don’t.”

This wasn’t the problem—it was a solution. It made me feel better and it did nothing to leave marks in the long run. I didn’t want her to think I was some dumb idiot who hurt themselves. 

_But I really am._

Her hand held mine, unwilling to let go. I felt so small compared to her. She made me feel so vulnerable. 

Slowly, her hand peeled my hand away from my thigh and replaced it with hers. Carefully, she ran her thumb over the indents in my pants. Underneath the cloth, my hurting skin throbbed against her affection. 

She didn’t move for the rest of the drive. She didn’t say anything either as my leg grew warm. I couldn’t tell whether it was from her affection or my doing. What I did know, though, was I felt weak and small. I felt scared even though she was gentle and sweet.

_Please don’t think less of me._

 

****

- **x-x-x-**

“Krista,” Ymir stepped out of her car as I stopped at the steps of my house. She rested her arms on top of it, looking up at me. “Can we talk a little?”

I hadn’t said anything to her the rest of the ride.

“I don’t know what to say.” I held the letter close to me. “I don’t know what you want to hear.”

“Well,” she huffed, lightly kicking her car’s tire with a thud, “I’d like to hear what’s on your mind.” 

There were a lot of things on my mind. Some of them I didn’t really understand myself and it scared me. 

“I don’t know what to say,” I repeated, feeling the letter crinkle in my fist. 

Ymir was for so long that I thought she was going to leave, but instead she moved away from her car, shutting the door, and came to join me on the steps. She hunkered down onto one and dusted off the seat next to her. 

“Might as well get comfy, then,” she motioned for me to join her. “I can sit here all night if you want.” 

“Ymir,” she wasn’t understanding. I had to stop myself from showing my annoyance. I didn’t want to tell her anything right now and I certainly didn’t know what to say either. I know she was trying to be sweet and considerate but it was overbearing right now, like I had to give her an answer or she’d get upset. 

“I really don’t know what to say.” I emphasized again. 

“Krista, I know, but try? For me? I want to help you. This is obviously making you very upset—“

“Then, don’t bring it up!” I blurted. 

Ymir only stared up at me, taken back. 

“I know you’re trying to help but I’m scared right now! I don’t know what I’m doing and having you here, demanding answers isn’t helping me!” I shut my eyes, trying to stop my mouth but it was going off on its own accord. It was like a dam was breaking in me. 

“Maybe I want to forget what had happened! Maybe I don’t want to remember!” I said so loudly that the whole night sky and all its stars could’ve heard. “I just don’t want to feel like this anymore!” 

It felt like I couldn’t control my racing mind as everything was pouring out. An unconscious barrier between me and my past came flying through and all I could blame was the hole Ymir had put in it.

My teeth were grinding against each other as I kept balling the letter up in my white knuckled hands. 

“When I moved,” I croaked, “I thought I was leaving everything behind! I-I thought I’d become someone new—someone I could be proud of, that my dad could be proud of, and that I could be that kind of someone—but-but-but then!—“ I swiveled on my foot and threw the letter by Ymir, glaring at her shocked look. 

“Then, y-y-you came in! When I had everything down! When I was ready to change and I was comfortable where I was! You came in and you—you made me remember things! You made me think things! You made me—YOU MADE ME FEEL THIS WAY! And you called me Krista! And now I don’t know what to do! I can’t—I can’t be Historia because you’re here.” 

My heart burned because I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to believe it as light flashed by me and Ymir. I didn’t even notice the coming car. 

“You—“ I knew there were tears but I hated them. The person who cried all the time wasn’t Historia. 

“You make me want to be me. Be myself. To be your Krista.” I wanted to kick the letter because I didn’t want to give everything up. I hated myself for wanting to throw everything away for Ymir, because I was so fucking scared—that she’d leave me again. That the promises we made would break like they had before. 

The car came to a stop behind Ymir’s but I didn’t even look. I couldn’t take my eyes from Ymir as she looked up at me with such an indescribable look. 

The car door opened and shut. 

“Historia?” The voice came as footsteps approached, but they did not penetrate the deadlock between Ymir and me. 

“You…” Ymir shakily inhaled “You have always been my Krista.”

I felt my face go red as I was shaken from my anger and disappointment and confusion. I had to pull away from the situation because I didn’t know what to do. My eyes went to the person by us and saw familiar eyes. 

“Reiner.” I whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for not updating as much as I used to. I know I would at least update once every week or two weeks, but I've been struggling with myself. Please understand.


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